


A Royal Pain

by jilliancares



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Phan Angst, Phan Fluff, Phan Smut, Phanfiction, Royalty, basically all the phan is gonna be in here, the trifecta of genres
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:48:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 81,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9320285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares
Summary: Dan Howell is a prince. Unlike most, known for their benevolent behaviors and elegant manners, he’s known for his sullen mood and vituperative remarks. After all, being a prince is not much fun; not with the lack of friends and the abundance of dumb tasks, such as trying to find the perfect bride and hosting dinners with nobles. Dan only has one friend, a prince from the neighboring kingdom Leona, and his days improve greatly when Phil finally comes to visit. However, with Phil comes a variety of strange accidents, all of which putting Dan's life in danger. Is someone trying to assassinate Dan?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhh!!!! so here's my new fic guys, i hope you're as excited for it as i am!! i've been sitting on this idea for a while so im glad i finally have the chance to write it! also, you can see that i've chosen not to display archive warnings, but i'll tell you right here and now that there aren't gonna be any major major things (so you can infer from this that i'm not going to kill off our love duo haha). alright, i hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!
> 
> also i update every saturday so you can be expecting new chapters then!

_"It won't work," a gruff voice said firmly. "What you're planning—it can only end in disaster."_

_"It could work," the other responded, his voice softer but equally as sure. "It_ will _work."_

_"To kill the king is madness! It's suicide."_

_"Yes," he responded, humming thoughtfully. "But to kill the prince..."_

_"The prince, sir?"_

_"To kill the prince is to weaken the king, and to weaken the king is to weaken the kingdom. It'd be much easier to defeat a defeated king."_

_"I'm still not so sure..."_

_"Lay your trust in me and you shall see how we succeed.”_

—

“Please, Your Highness,” the maidservant—possibly named Cecily—pleaded. Dan had trouble remembering their names, mostly because there were so many of them and it took too much effort to try to actually care.

“I don’t see why I should have to go,” Dan answered without turning around to look at her. He was currently leaning against the door to his closet, examining the many outfit choices he had in there. There were clothes of all variety—different styles and colors and designs. He’d rather stay in his pajamas, complete with a wondrous silky robe, than change into any of them. He knew better than that, of course—he /was/ standing at the door to his closet, anyway. He wasn’t ever likely to get his way against his father, and this woman should know that by now. He might be complaining and acting like he wouldn’t bother to go, but he did always end up doing so.

“It’s important for a young prince such as yourself to find a bride, Your Highness.”

Dan sighed. Maybe the process of finding a bride wouldn’t be so horrendous if there weren't absolutely zero good ladies out there. Or at least, his father wasn’t having any luck finding them. Dan was constantly having to meet and greet and dine with the ladies his father brought in for him, all as dull and unimpressive as the last. Dan was _bored_. He didn’t want to meet with any more girls; he wanted to read books and ride his horse and spy on the townspeople from the great stone wall surrounding the castle.

“I’m feeling quite sick,” Dan sighed. “Perhaps I shouldn’t meet with the lady after all.” He spun around to look at the maidservant then, having to resist grinning at the look of abject horror on her face. “Wouldn’t want make her feel unwell, right?”

“I-I could call a healer,” Possibly-Cecily said, and Dan huffed in annoyance, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever. I’ll just get ready.” The maidservant nodded gratefully and disappeared from his quarters, shutting the door firmly behind her. Dan followed curiously, pressing his ear against the door as soon as she was gone.

“How did it go?” someone grunted—one of the guards outside Dan’s room. It was nice that they were there in case some psycho tried to get into his room or something, but really it could be horrendously annoying. He couldn’t go anywhere without everyone having to know about it, and privacy was virtually nonexistent.

“Bad,” the maidservant replied. “The Prince is in a mood today.”

Dan huffed, making a rude gesture at her towards the door. If she wanted to pretend his personality was a mood to sooth her hurt feelings then so be it. He knew that none of the servants really liked him— _no one_  really liked him, for that matter. There were other nobles and such that he interacted with on occasion, but he wasn’t necessarily friends with any of them. It was all just formalities; everything was so incredibly fake that only an artificial friendship could last that way.

He only had one true friend, anyway, though it wasn’t like he got to see him often. It’d been a few years since the last time they’d been together, their communications having been strictly by letter since. Was it not understandable that he might not be the friendliest of people?

“I would be too if I were constantly having to court women,” one of the guards responded. It was Alfonzo, one that Dan had always been able to tolerate. He gave a nod of approval, hearing Alfonzo’s defense of him.

“And not just any women,” the first guard said. What was his name again? Steve? Richard? “ _Noble_  women.”

“Bentley’s right,” Alfonzo said. Bentley? Since when had there been a guard named _Bentley_? Dan rolled his eyes. He’d never been very good at names anyway. “Noble women are horrendous. Stuck up and snooty. Can’t stand ‘em.” Dan couldn’t help nodding in agreement.

“You only think so because they’re out of your league,” Cecily responded. “Make sure Prince Daniel is on his way in fifteen minutes. I don’t know what the King will do if he’s late in greeting his guest again.”

Dan bit down on his groan as he slumped away from his door and back to his closet. He just wanted to get this over with. He’d tell the woman, whoever she was, that she looked wonderful while trying to ignore how hideous her dress looked or how strange the ornaments looked in her hair. She would blush and stutter around him the entire time, and he would have to grit his teeth to keep insulting comments from pouring out. Finally, he would be able to send her on her way with a kiss to her hand, after which he would inform his father that she was horrendous and he had no wish to see her ever again. After that, at least, he’d be able to lock himself in his rooms and read until late into the night when his candles had burnt up nearly all their wicks.

He ended up wearing a pretty simple outfit and spruced it up with a cape, though he had to admit that he felt a bit like a ponce wearing it. He couldn’t deny that it looked good on him though, so soon enough he was on his way.

“All set, Your Highness?” Alfonzo asked as Dan stepped out of his chambers. Dan nodded, feeling his willingness to speak fade even more. He was dreading his afternoon. Perhaps he really _could_  feign an illness and get out of the whole affair before it had gone on for too long. “Then let’s be on our way.”

Dan started walking, the two guards easily falling into formation slightly beside and behind him. It had always felt ridiculous, the fact that people were constantly walking with him but not _with_  him. He’d grown used to it, of course, but that didn’t stop it from being stupid. As a kid he’d looked up to the guards, had pestered them with questions and begged them to play with him. It wasn’t a guard’s place to play with the Prince, however, and so mostly Dan had done without. He had a few vague memories of guards occasionally caving, of them playing cards with him or obediently looking for him while he hid in his chambers, but those instances had been few and far in between.

He didn’t bother to talk to the guards with him now and knew that they wouldn’t speak to him first without a proper reason. It wasn’t as if it was looked down upon for Dan to converse with them, it was just that there really wasn’t a point. Plus, he might mistakenly think of a guard as his friend if he talked to them too much, which could never actually be true. All the servants were paid to be there, paid to be friendly to Dan. Any perceived friendship would never be real.

Dan subconsciously slowed as they got closer to the foyer, his footsteps echoing loudly on the stone floors. The armor of the guard’s behind him clinked obnoxiously with every step. It would’ve driven Dan crazy if the stuff was on him, if he was constantly plagued with the sound of his own movement. Truly, the only good part about courting this woman would be getting rid of his guards. Normally they wouldn’t leave his room unguarded and Dan was free to roam around the castle and the grounds at his own will, but when intentionally letting someone into the castle, he was supposed to be accompanied.

Truth be told, Dan thought it was a bit bullshit. As if the guest hadn’t already been accosted by several different security measures. For all they knew a stranger could be breaking into his rooms right this very moment while his guards were otherwise occupied. Dan sighed sullenly, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to avoid this any longer. He was already shuffling his feet, already pulling even closer to the large entryway.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” Alfonzo said, and Dan’s head jerked up in surprise as he turned to look at the guard with wide eyes. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

For a moment, Dan didn’t know what to say. Was Alfonzo trying to comfort him? “I—Right,” he muttered, looking at the guard almost skeptically. “Thanks,” he managed to add. The word tasted dry in his mouth. When was the last time he’d thanked someone?

Dan continued into the foyer on his own where a few maidservants were waiting. The guards hung back by the door, falling into their normal position, feet shoulder width apart and hands rested on the handle of the sword at their sides. A few servants fussed over him, making sure his clothes were straight and neat. A boy that looked about twelve was helping them, probably apprenticing to be a servant when he was older.

“All set, Prince Daniel,” Cecily said. “Go woo that lady!”

“It’s her that needs to woo me,” Dan muttered, but he stalked off towards the next room finally, smiling genially to the woman seated within. There was a cup of tea in front of her, along with a plate of pastries, but she hadn’t touched a thing. Likely too nervous to eat any of it.

“Good afternoon,” Dan greeted, keeping the smile pasted on his face. He longed to sneer and pout and traipse back to his room, but that would put up a bad front. “It’s so very nice to meet you. I’m Daniel.” He wracked his brains, trying to remember what her name was. His father had likely told him the night before, when he’d first told him that he’d even have a lady to escort today, but the knowledge had slipped his mind.

“You’d think they’d have better tea in a castle,” the girl commented. Dan had to keep his mouth from dropping open in surprise. What the fuck?

“Well—” Dan managed, amongst all the other confusion swirling about in his mind. He cleared his throat. “I’m more of a coffee person, myself.”

The girl simply raised an eyebrow. Dan hated her immediately. Normally he just felt disinterested and vaguely annoyed at the beginning of the dates—but this? This feeling of hatred? This was new. How could his father have thought that this woman could possible be an eligible choice for him? She was even worse than the girl who’d picked her nose the entire date, and that’d been fucking disgusting. Dan hadn’t even kissed her hand before bidding her a farewell. He was pretty sure he’d been unable to keep his nose from crinkling every time he’d looked at her, too.

“Would you like to go for a walk around the grounds?” Dan suggested, even half-heartedly offering his arm for her. The girl sighed heavily.

“Do you even know my name?”

Dan paused. “Excuse me?”

“Do you know my name.” She said it flatly; it wasn’t a question.

“Of course,” Dan answered.

“Then what is it?”

Dan swallowed. His father had mentioned it just the night before, so _logically_  the information was locked away in his own mind somewhere. He just had to extract it and present it somehow. After exactly three seconds of awkward silence, during which no revelations came about, Dan guessed.

“Isabella,” he said.

“Wrong.”

Dan shrugged, his impatience and annoyance getting the best of him. He didn’t like this woman’s attitude, didn’t like anything about her. He was tempted to just end end his afternoon with her here. “Fine then—what is it?”

“Gertrude.”

Dan felt himself swallow thickly. How could his father have uttered the word _Gertrude_  the night before without Dan noticing? Without him vomiting and refusing the woman out of hand? He sighed, preparing for a long day.

—

All in all, the date was absolutely the worst thing ever. Dan had made sure to rant about it to his father after happily escorting Gertrude out of the castle (without kissing her hand, not that she would’ve likely allowed it). He’d exclaimed that if he ever had to meet with someone so completely obnoxious and foul again he would end the date immediately. His father had looked quite taken aback but had apologized for misconstruing his perception of the young lady. “She seemed quite more refined when I met with her,” he had explained.

Now, Dan sat in the bath, doing his best to wash the horrible day from his mind (and body). A piece of paper sat on the edge of the large basin, a pen laying abandoned on top of it. With a sigh, Dan dried his hand and picked up the utensil, putting pen back to paper once again.

_Anyway, this was by far the worst woman yet. I might have to swear off women forever after this—she was absolutely horrid! The very first thing she said to me was that we had bad tea. Af if we’d give a visitor our top quality tea anyway!_

_I’m just glad your father’s not doing the same to you. How is it that mine wants me married as soon as possible and yours is content to sit and wait? Although I guess that’s what happens when you’re not the oldest sibling. Honestly, I think it’d be better if I had an older brother too._

_How are you, by the way? I was thinking about you just the other day while I was out riding. Remember how we used to race? I can’t wait until the day I see you again—I think for sure I’ll beat you this time! And I won’t fall off my horse either; I think that’s an embarrassment I can live without._

_Plus the trees always look wonderful at this time of year. They all burst into bloom so quickly and then it’s over before you know it. I hope you can be here to see it one day. Agghhh sometimes I think of just stealing my horse and riding all the way Leona myself. I think I could do it too—I’d just have to find some pretty heavy cloaks so no one would recognize me. And I might have to train with a sword some more to fend off any scoundrels on my journey. All in all, I think it would be worth it to see you again._

Dan threw his pen down, sinking lower in the bathtub. He submerged himself completely, clenching his eyes shut and holding his breath.

Sometimes he missed his friend so deeply his chest _ached_. There was nothing like having someone around to just _be_  with, to talk to and pass the time with. He wanted to bring it up with his father, to have him request for the King of Leona to send his son over again, but he didn't know if his father would ever comply. He’d been encouraging Dan to try to make friends closer to home for as long as he could remember—it wasn’t his fault if his one and only friend was weeks worth of travel away.

Dan’s chest still ached, but now it was with the need to breathe. He held his breath for even longer, held it and held it until he thought he might just explode from lack of oxygen, until his heart was pounding fervently in his head, and then he finally sat up and gasped for air, panting and panting until he didn’t feel on the brink of passing out anymore.

Dan stood and stepped out of the cooling tub, leaving the leftover water for the maids to dispose of, and grabbed a mass of fluffy towels to dry himself off with. He changed into another pair of silk pajamas—these ones as dark as the midnight sky—and draped a robe around himself as well. He managed to dry his hair as best he could by rubbing it vigorously with a towel before dropping it to the floor for the maids to clean in the morning.

He let out a large yawn as he reached for the door handle. Warm baths never failed to make him sleepy. Now Dan just wanted to light a fire in the grate and let it heat up his room nice and toasty, and then he could curl up under his sheets and read or perhaps finish his letter. He always made sure to write as much as he could think of, seeing as it took a while for the letters to arrive. He’d set his current one on the sink, trusting the maids not to read it and invoke on his privacy.

Finally, he stepped out of his bathroom and crossed from his living room, complete with many bookshelves and cushy armchairs, into his bedroom. Then again, he was feeling quite tired. Perhaps he’d take a nap before he started reading tonight—

“Took you long enough. You know, that was the longest bath I think I’ve ever had to endure. You’re more pampered then me.”

Dan froze, his hand still on the door to his room, his foot still raised as if to take a step. He slowly brought his gaze up to his bed, where a stranger was currently lounging casually, as if that wasn’t _Dan’s bed._

“ _Excuse_ —” Dan began, before abruptly breaking off. That wild grin… Those eyes… “ _Phil_?’

“You didn’t recognize me, you bastard?”

Dan let out a noise akin to a squeal before he was sprinting across the room and diving onto the bed, yanking Phil up and into his arms. Phil was laughing, evidently delighted at having been able to surprise Dan like this. Dan couldn’t help being anything but ecstatic and confused beyond belief, but he didn’t care. God, Phil had looked so _different_  when he’d last seen him! And he’d definitely cut his hair since then—Dan had to admit that it looked much better now.

A few blissful moments passed while Dan accepted the fact that his friend was finally here again, that he was _back_ , before Phil was ruining it.

“But seriously, what took you so long in there? Enjoying yourself, were you?” he said suggestively.

“ _No_ , fuck you!” Dan said, shoving away from Phil and sprawling next to him on the bed. “I was just contemplating how horrible my day had been. And I was writing it in a letter for you, too.”

“Aww,” Phil cooed. “You _missed_  me!” It was then that Dan noticed the pile of papers in Phil’s lap, all of which were covered front to back in Dan’s handwriting. Phil must’ve found the stack of papers on his beside table, the current letter he had been compiling for his friend. He couldn’t help the blush suddenly tinging his cheeks. There was something safe about knowing Phil was reading his letters from miles and miles away, but it felt different when he was right here, when he could respond to anything on those papers out loud—not that Dan had written anything incriminating.

“No shit,” Dan muttered. “You missed me too! You came all the way to Hirona, for fuck’s sake.” Phil laughed.

“Yeah, I did. Well? Was it a good surprise?”

“A terrifying one is more like it. How’d you get into my chambers anyway?”

“There wasn’t anyone guarding them,” Phil said easily. Dan scoffed.

“This is exactly how I’m going to get killed one day,” he promised. “My guards will follow me somewhere and a murderer will sneak into my room and murder me.”

“Good thing I’m not a murderer then,” Phil said. Dan snorted. “Now show me to my rooms, Prince Daniel. I require a long night’s rest and a plentiful breakfast, I’ve traveled long and hard to get here so quickly.”

“Don’t call me Prince Daniel, _Prince Philip_.” Dan rebutted. “And why are you here, anyway?” Even as he asked, he stood and gestured for Phil to follow him. They had a guest quarters on the same floor as his, which is obviously where Phil would stay. It was the closest thing to Dan, anyway, and he’d want to be able to get to Phil as quickly as possible at any given time—they had a lot of years to make up for.

“Ugh, I’ll tell you all the sorry details tomorrow,” Phil promised. “It was all I could do to stay awake to surprise you. Imagine walking into your room and seeing me sleeping in your bed.”

Dan laughed. “I probably would’ve had my guards slice you into pieces,” he admitted. Phil gasped in offense. “I doubt you recognized me after three years either!”

Phil scoffed. “I most certainly did.”

Dan opened the door for him and they both spilled out of the room, surprising Alfonzo and Bentley. “What the—who’s this?” Bentley spluttered.

“Thankfully not an assassin,” Dan joked, before shoving Phil forward down the hall. “I’ll be showing the Prince of Leona to his rooms—could one of you inform my father that he’s here?”

“Oh, he already knows,” Phil assured him. Dan furrowed his eyebrows. Had his father really let him complain to him—quite rudely—about Gertrude while knowing Phil was waiting for him in his rooms? Had Gertrude been planned, even? Perhaps his father had just chosen the very first person he found, wanting Dan to be out of his rooms for the day. Dan simply shook his head at the deceitfulness.

“Where are your guards?” Dan asked as he turned the corner and brought Phil to the entrance of his quarters.

“I think they’re dining or something,” Phil answered before opening the door and peering inside. The rooms were spotless—they got cleaned and dusted even when nobody was currently using them.

“Do you want me to get some to guard your rooms?” Dan asked.

“I’m sure they’ll find their way up here soon enough,” Phil excused. He turned to lean his back against the jam of the door, smiling at Dan. His eyes seem to twinkle in the low light from the torches on the walls. The castle was really much prettier during the day time when the natural light filtered in through all the grand, glass windows. At night it looked so dark and dreary, as if they were living in a giant dungeon rather than a castle. Dan liked to extinguish all the candles in his room at night and let the moonlight filter into his room instead, though it really wasn’t the best light to read by.

“It’s good to see you again, Dan,” Phil said with a soft smile. Dan couldn’t keep the answering smile from creeping onto his own face. It was so rare that he genuinely smiled—that he did it without thinking, without purpose. It felt nice.

“You too. I’m glad you came.”

“Me too.” Before Dan could react, Phil was pulling him into a hug, which Dan reciprocated easily. Their arms wound each other seemingly without effort, and Dan breathed in Phil’s familiar scent. He’d forgotten it in the three years since last seeing him, but now that he was smelling it again it seemed impossible that the scent had once faded from his memory. It was funny—Dan never really hugged people either. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d hugged his father. And now that he was thinking about it, the last time he’d hugged _anyone at all_  might’ve been when he was saying goodbye to Phil all those years ago, waving him away as he departed for Leona. It was surprising how nice hugging felt now.

“Goodnight,” Phil finally said, pulling away from Dan after what had surely only been seconds and opening his door wide. “I’ll see you in the morning—preferably with a large breakfast tray in hand.”

Dan snorted. “I won’t be bringing you your breakfast, a maid will do that.”

Phil frowned. “Now is that any way to treat your best friend? You’d rather send random women at me? The next thing I know you’ll be making me court them.”

Dan scoffed and shoved Phil into his room with a laugh. He spun around and retraced his steps back to his own quarters, unable to wipe the large smile from his face, nor the jaunt from his step.

“Goodnight Alfonzo, Bentley,” he said with a nod, before slipping past them and opening his door.

“ _Wha_ —” Bentley muttered, but Alfonzo shushed him immediately.

Dan was whistling as he finally finished getting read for bed. He found himself skipping his usual late-night reading session and simply climbing into his bed instead—hoping he’d fall asleep quickly and wake up just as fast.


	2. Chapter 2

In the end, Dan did end up serving Phil breakfast. He'd woken up of his own accord for once, not having to be roused again and again by servants. The sun had still been low in the sky when he'd tumbled out of bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

It was then that he'd remembered Phil's insistence that he serve him breakfast, which Dan had rolled his eyes at in the privacy of his own room. Still, he was a great friend, and great friends sometimes did what their friends requested of them. And so he had slipped out of his rooms, his hair still a mess and clad in pajamas.

"Prince," one of the guards greeted with surprise. It was the second shift of guards, seeing as no two people could be awake to guard him for the entire day. It wasn't strange for the guard to be surprised, Dan couldn't even remember the last time he'd woken up this early, the sun still chasing the night from the sky.

Dan nodded at the guards, not quite remembering their names and barely recognizing their faces. He moved to step around them and the second guard cleared her throat. "Would you like us to accompany you, Prince?"

Dan looked at her in surprise. “Oh—no, uh. I'm good. Just going to get some breakfast."

"Do you want us to call you a tray?" the second guard asked. He seemed concerned, which made sense, anyway. Dan wasn't one to wake up early, much less fix his own breakfast. But he wanted to do this for himself.

"No, I'll be fine," he assured, before shoving his hands into his pajama pockets and walking away from his rooms. He walked silently through the castle, surprised at how active it was so early in the day. Servants were running to and fro, carrying mops and brooms and tubs of hot water, trays and linens balanced on their shoulders. They gave Dan concerned looks when they saw him, all bowing their heads respectively before hurrying on their way.

"I _did_ ,” someone further down the hall was insisting. "But every time I try they always come out burnt."

Someone turned the corner exactly as Dan was passing by, smacking harshly into his side. Irritation bubbled in his gut as he spun to face the offender, only to see a little girl stumbling backwards, colliding into another girl. They looked to be about eleven, both of them with their hair pulled up in the familiar fashion of the servants. They were wearing maid's clothes, both of them gaping at Dan.

"I hit the prince," the blonde one whispered—still staring at Dan—something akin to horror in her eyes. Her hand found the hand of her friend, both of them clutching the other tightly. The annoyance melted out of Dan.

"We're terribly sorry sir! Prince! Your Highness!" the girl's friend shouted, bending at the waist to bow before Dan.

"Oh!" Dan said, stepping backward in surprise. "No, you're fine. I wasn't paying attention either."

Both girls stared at Dan, something like reverence and confusion mixed in their gazes. Finally, they nodded and turned around, sprinting back the way he came.

"I thought I was going to get kicked out!" the blonde one whispered, her voice carrying down the stone hallway.

"I thought you were going to get executed!" They turned the far corner with a series of giggles, and Dan shook his head and continued on his way, a bit perplexed. He'd never really realized that there were younger people working in the castle before, though he guessed it made sense. And it wasn't as if he was normally looking either, nor was he usually out and about at this time.

He continued down the stairwell and through another long, echo-y hallway, torches burning brightly on either wall, though the sun was now filtering quite nicely through the windows. He slowed down as he approached the kitchens, suddenly feeling anxious about going in. When was the last time he'd been in the kitchens anyway? He could remember sneaking in with Phil when they were younger, usually in the middle of the night, only to be confronted by the night staff. He vaguely remembered the head of the kitchen staff at the time, short and stout, her graying hair curly and close to her head. He and Phil had often dug through the cabinets in search of any kind of snack, only to be intercepted on multiple occasions by her.

"Didn't I tell you that snacks this late aren't good for you?" she'd reprimanded, suddenly appearing with a torch in hand. He and Phil had screamed in surprise the first couple of times it'd happened, but had learned she wasn't actually there to send them back to bed soon after. She'd simply rolled her eyes when they insisted they needed a snack and then made them one herself, a platter of fruit or a warm cake. Dan had forgotten about her, he realized, as he hadn't been to the kitchens in so long. He didn't even know if she was still working here.

He shrugged off his anxiety with a shake of his head as he pushed open the kitchen door. Even if she was still here, she wouldn't be working at this time anyway.

There was a ton of activity in the kitchen, people bustling all over the place and shouting questions over the heads of their companions to someone else across the room. They held pots and pans and moved quickly and surely, absolutely skilled and assured in their actions. All of it paused when Dan arrived in the doorway, silence quickly falling upon the staff—a wary, nervous sort of quiet. Dan felt himself scowl. They didn't need to stop just because he was here.

"What can I help you with, Your Highness?" the head cook (presumably) asked, having snaked his way through the abundance of people.

"I just wanted to get breakfast for my—friend," Dan replied. Though he realized now that there wasn't really any room for him in here, and he didn't exactly know how to make anything anyway.

"What would they like?" the cook asked, and slowly the work in the kitchen resumed, though muted.

"Um. Pancakes," Dan decided. "And eggs. And bacon." The cook looked up at him as if making sure the order was done. "Please."

A blink of surprise. And then, "Of course, Your Highness. You can wait in here if you would like, or we could deliver it ourselves."

"I'll wait," Dan said quickly. He glanced around again, re-noticing the awkward atmosphere that had fallen as a result of his presence. "Out there," he added, gesturing through the door. And with that he disappeared back through the doors, retreating to the other side of the corridor. He slid onto the low windowsill, his back pressed against the cool glass, and waited. God, Phil was going to owe him after this. Dan was never going to go into the kitchens again.

Soon the cook emerged with a tray piled with food. Dan shouldered the tray, much heavier than he was expecting, and continued back the way he came. He felt irrationally embarrassed, doing the work of a servant, but he figured it was worth it once he was arriving at Phil's door, pausing before his guards.

"I got Phil breakfast," Dan said to them in explanation. They were both burly and scary looking, their faces set in glares. Dan glared back after a moment, neither of them having responded to him. They shouldn't be glaring at a prince!

"Let me in," he commanded.

"The Prince has not requested your presence," one of the guards answered.

"Then knock," Dan said. "Tell him I'm here."

"The Prince has not yet woken," the second guard answered. Dan had to resist snarling at them, his temper instantly flaring.

" _Phil_!" he yelled. "Let me in!" He kicked the door between the guards, making it thud loudly, before one of them shoved him roughly backwards. He stumbled, barely managing to keep hold of his tray as his head clunked into the wall behind him. He hissed as pain flared in his head, before rage flooded through his body.

“GUARDS!" he yelled, and he heard the footsteps of his guards running towards him; they were just around the corner, guarding his own rooms.

"What's wrong, Prince?" one guard demanded as he skidded around the corner, his eyes wide with worry. The man in front of Phil's room let in a small intake of breath.

"This man assaulted me," Dan said, turning to glare at Phil's idiot guards. He didn't know how Phil could stand them.

Dan's own guard was immediately stepping in front of him in a protective stance. The second one stepped forward and took the tray from him, which he thankfully relinquished, his arms aching.

"What is the meaning of this?" his guard demanded. Phil's was silent. "Answer to me, Lin of the Royal Guard!" Lin demanded. Phil's guard cleared his throat.

"We didn't know he was the prince," he admitted. Dan scoffed loudly. Sure, he was in his pajamas, and sure, he’d been carrying a breakfast tray, but come on! He was the prince!

Suddenly, the door behind the guards opened, a tired-looking Phil filling the doorway.

"What's going on? Clint? Henry?" Phil's guards stiffened.

"Your bumbling guards attacked me," Dan said loudly, peering around Lin. "Let me in. I brought you breakfast.”

Phil grinned. “You said you weren’t going to.”

“Well I did.” Dan grabbed the tray from his guard’s hands and stepped around Lin, glaring at Phil’s guards as he walked between them. Phil stepped back and allowed Dan into his rooms, grinning all the while.

“Would you like Elaine and I to accompany you, Prince?” Lin called, casting a distrustful glance between the royal guards of Leona.

“I’ll be fine,” Dan replied, before shutting the door behind him with his foot. He then transferred his glare to Phil. “Your guards suck.”

Phil just laughed, taking the tray from Dan’s hands and leading him through the suite. They ended up in Phil’s bedroom, both of them climbing onto the bed with the tray in between them (there was enough for two, after all). “They’re just a little overprotective,” Phil finally answered, before picking up a piece of bacon.

“My head hurts,” Dan complained. “It hit a _wall_.”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

Dan threw a chunk of egg at Phil. No, getting breakfast for his friend had not been worth it. Though he couldn’t deny his mood improved as they ate. There was just something unexplainable about being around his friend that made him so happy.

Phil’s guard, Clint, did eventually apologize to him for shoving him. Both he and Henry, Phil’s second guard, stared at him with wide eyes throughout the entire encounter, after which they scurried out, talking in muffled voices. Dan supposed it wasn’t every day you met and attacked a prince, so he understood their surprise. Still, he wouldn’t be forgetting the event any time soon.

“So?” Dan said finally, flicking through a book on Phil’s bedside as the prince returned from the bathroom. Phil had apparently brought the book with him, as Dan didn’t recognize it. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re here?”

“Are you gonna stop spoiling that book for yourself?” Phil countered. It was true—Dan _was_  spoiling it. He tended to read books after Phil had read them, every letter between them containing suggestions for new books to read. Dan couldn’t help it though, he was curious.

“ _Lilith finally looked at her lover, her eyelids heavy,_ ” Dan read dramatically, before looking over the pages at Phil, who was rolling his eyes. “ _‘Oh Hal,’ she said longingly. ‘Don’t you love me?_ ”

Finally, Phil scoffed and leaped towards Dan, diving for the book in an attempt to rescue it from his hands. Dan rolled off the bed, giggling, and sprinted out the bedroom. Phil gave chase, the two of them darting around furniture and through doorways, laughing and panting and screaming (mostly on Dan’s behalf).

“Give it back, you bastard!” Phil yelled. Dan glanced behind him as he ran into the bathroom, trying to shut the door behind him. He wasn’t quick enough, the door bursting back open beneath his hands as Phil exploded through the doorway. Dan gasped and scrambled backwards, climbing into the tub and shoving the book under himself as he laid on top of it.

Phil followed him easily, jumping into the tub and grabbing his arms, trying to yank him away. “No!” Dan cried. He ripped his arm out of Phil’s grasp and snatched the book, only managing to fumble it. It flew to the ground outside the tub, a folded piece of paper falling out of it.

“What’s that?” Dan asked, both of them coming to a pause. Phil had one of Dan’s hands secured behind his back, the rest of his body pinning him to the edge of the tub. Dan squinted.

“Is that… one of my letters?” Dan asked.

Phil was silent for a moment. And then, “Maybe.”

“Get off,” Dan grunted. “I want to read it.”

With that, Phil shoved off him and climbed out of the tub, snatching the letter from the ground and sprinting from the room. Dan followed with something sounding like a battle cry.

—

“I don’t think I’ll be in attendance today, Cecily,” Dan said, his feet hanging over the side of the armchair. He had a book perched open on his knees and he was resolutely ignoring the servant.

“You have to go, Your Highness,” she insisted. Dan leaned forward and picked an invisible piece of lint off his sock.

“I fail to see how it’s important to me,” Dan continued. “I’ll never use it in my life. I’m always surrounded by guards anyway.”

“Anyone in your position should know how to handle a sword, Your Highness,” Cecily said matter-of-factly. “It’d be embarrassing if you couldn’t.”

Dan finally looked away from his book, only to glare at her. “I can spar just fine.”

Cecily sighed, long and drawn out. “Prince Philip is going to be there.” Dan’s finger twitched, the page of his book scraping against another.

“And why should that convince me?”

“Do you know how long he’s staying for?”

“No,” Dan admitted. “Do you?”

“Of course not,” Cecily said, sounding surprised that Dan had even bothered to ask. “But what if he was leaving in the next week? Or even in the next month? Wouldn’t you want to spend as much time with him as possible?”

Dan grit his teeth. Annoying as it was, Cecily was right. Even sparring practice didn’t sound so horrible with the prospect of Phil being there.

“I’ll go,” Dan said finally with a sigh. “But only because I plan to steal the sword and chop your head off.”

Cecily looked utterly unfazed by his proposition of murder. “Very well, Your Highness. You’re to be expected in fifteen minutes.”

Dan raced to the door the second it was closed, pressing his ear up against the soft wood.

“How did you know that Prince Philip thing would work?” Bentley asked. Dan rolled his eyes, realizing the guards must’ve been eavesdropping while Cecily was talking to him. Though he wasn’t one to talk.

“Prince Philip was here three years ago,” Cecily said. “Prince Daniel was always in kinder spirits with him around. After he left, the Prince seemed to draw into himself.”

Dan scoffed quietly and pushed away from the door, going to change into his sparring outfit. They could believe whatever they wanted, but Phil didn’t change a single thing about him.

Soon enough he was in the sparring room, a sword dangling from his hand as he waited for his friend to arrive. Guards lined the walls, each and every one of their eyes on Dan. It was standard for them to be there; the fact that he was in a room with armed people was a hazard to his safety. Though Dan figured if someone wanted to murder him, they’d be able to do it before any of the guards reached him.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot idly, already bored. Sparring was never much fun. It seemed like it’d be a cool concept, and he’d definitely relished the idea of training when he was little, but it wasn’t nearly as interesting as it sounded. It was mainly Dan getting told that his footing was wrong, that he needed to swing with his whole body, that he needed to step into his thrusts. He ended up storming out with a huff more often than not.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Dan’s attention, and he glanced up as Phil entered the room, a guard handing him a sword as he did. Phil nodded and smiled, taking a moment to say something to the guard, before he was heading Dan’s way, sword swinging easily at his side.

“Ready?” Phil said.

“As I’ll ever be,” Dan drawled. His normal sparring teacher had agreed to let him practice with Phil today.

They both took a few steps back, dropping into a stance, before a whistle was blown and they were stepping closer together. There was a clash as their swords hit, Phil deflecting Dan’s blow as easy as breathing. Dan took a step to the side, swung again, and Phil slid his blade down the hilt, flicking his wrist and snapping the sword out of Dan’s hand. It went flying.

Dan gaped, staring at his sword laying feet away from him, and then back up at Phil, who now had his sword leveled with his throat. All around the room, the guards had their own swords drawn.

“Have you not practiced since I was last here?” Phil demanded. Dan glowered.

“You know I hate sparring.”

“You’ll have to get better,” Phil insisted. “Otherwise I’ll be much too bored. I need a proper sparring partner.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “How long are you staying, anyway? And why are you here? You still haven’t told me.”

“Beat me and I’ll tell you,” Phil said with a smirk. Dan stalked to his sword and snatched it up, pointing it at Phil’s face.

“Bring it.”

They sparred for nearly an hour, Dan pressing and pushing, dodging and sidestepping, swinging and thrusting to no avail. Phil was always one step ahead of him, one step quicker than him. He danced out of the way and disarmed Dan as easily as one brought a spoon to their mouth. His fighting was fast and fluid; he barely seemed to be trying. His ease only made Dan angrier, which made his moves more wild and erratic, which made Phil’s disarming of him even easier.

By the time they were done, Dan was doubled over and panting, meanwhile Phil had barely broken a sweat.

“How,” Dan huffed, “the _hell_ … do you _do_  that?”

“I practice,” Phil answered simply. “And you better start, too. You really suck.”

Dan growled and leapt forward, slashing through the air swiftly. The swords were fake, but still hard enough that it would give Phil a good bruise if he could get a hit in. Phil deflected it.

Annoyance flooded through his veins and Dan threw his sword to the floor before spinning towards the exit.

“I’m done for the day,” he announced, shoving his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Okay,” Phil called after him. “Don’t forget to bathe. You smell disgusting.”

Dan made a rude gesture behind his back before disappearing through the door.


	3. Chapter 3

"Prince Daniel," Cecily said, beginning to sound desperate. Dan continued to ignore her, cocooned in a wonderful amount of warm blankets. He did not feel very inclined to leave his bed today. “You need to rise; you have another lady to court today.”

Precisely _why_  Dan didn’t want to get out of bed.

His father had told him about the lady the night before at dinner, which had ruined the rest of his night as well as today.

“Before I forget,” his father had said, interrupting the somewhat awkward atmosphere. Normally he and Dan ate dinner together—mostly in silence—but this time Phil had been present as well, as he would be for the rest of his stay. They’d all been virtually quiet, the occasional conversational topic breaking through the silent mold and occupying them for a few minutes. “Lady Anne is coming tomorrow to be courted.”

Dan had groaned loudly, immediately throwing himself back into his seat, his dinner forgotten. “I feel faint,” he answered.

“Daniel,” his father had said sternly.

“My blood pressure’s too high. I haven’t eaten vegetables in days. I think I feel a cough coming on,” Dan rattled out. He had coughed at the end as well, mainly in hopes of persuading his father.

“You’re meeting her,” his father had said finally.

“I don’t see why I’m supposed to find a bride already,” Dan had argued. “I’m only seventeen—I’ve got plenty of time ahead of me.”

“The sooner you find the perfect bride, the better,” his father had answered easily. “It’s not as though you have to marry her as soon as you find her, but it’d be good if you at least had an idea of what lady you’d like to make your bride.”

“I can help him, Your Highness,” Phil had butted in with a grin. His father had laughed.

“No need for those kinds of formalities here, Philip, you’re practically family.”

“Of course,” Phil had said with a gracious nod. “But I’m pretty familiar with the process—my brother is to be getting married soon.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” Phil answered with a nod. “And perhaps I could help to train Dan to be more courtly. I’m not sure he has a way with the women.”

“Too true!”

“Hey!” Dan had finally protested, glaring at both father and friend alike. “I’m fine with women.”

“Then why haven’t you found a bride yet?” Phil had countered.

“They’re all horrendous!” Dan had cried. “You should know! I’ve told you all about them in my letters!”

“You’re welcome to help him, Philip,” Dan’s father had interrupted. Dan had simply rolled his eyes, slouching further in his seat. He didn’t care what they said, he could court women perfectly fine—as long as it was the right woman.

He could see it now: an annoying girl in a stupid dress trying much too hard to win Dan’s affections. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about any of them; there was just something about them… Perhaps his father really did have the worst taste.

It would make sense, anyway, seeing as his mother had left his father when Dan was still little, still learning the proper way to set the table. He remembered barely anything about her, only that she’d tried to make him use his silverware with his right hand despite it being too difficult, seeing as his left was his dominant one. She’d insisted that using his left hand was improper. Thankfully, his father didn’t care which hand he used to eat, and so Dan had been happily and easily consuming his meals ever since his mother had left.

“Stop ignoring me,” Cecily begged. “ _I’m_  the one that’s going to get in trouble if you’re not up in time to greet the lady!”

Dan hummed thoughtfully. “Sounds like something that’s not my problem,” he finally answered, clenching the comforter tighter around him. It really was a lovely object, filled with soft goose feathers, always a warm and comfortable weight on top of him. Just as he was appreciating how lovely his blanket was, it was ripped off him, the cold air assaulting his bare skin immediately after. And yes, bare most of it was. Dan tended to sleep in just his underwear; it was better for appreciating the fine bedding.

He sat up slowly, anger boiling in his blood as he turned to face the servant. Cecily seemed to realize that she’d done something horribly, tragically wrong, and actually looked afraid. For a good moment Dan considered calling the guards in here, debating screaming something about assault; he _was_  already naked. Instead, he dug deep, deep inside himself to find some scrap of forgiveness, which he clung to.

“Give that back,” he finally said, so quietly that he was surprised Cecily heard him. The fury was clear in his voice even to his own ears, however, so it wasn’t surprising when she immediately shoved his blanket back towards him. He snatched it up and wrapped it around his shoulders before standing and stalking towards his closet.

“I have nothing to wear,” he continued. “I’ll have to court the lady naked. She won’t be able to pay attention to my personality at all with my physique distracting her.”

Cecily bustled past him and dug around in his wardrobe, finding him something adequate to wear.

“Get dressed,” she instructed, after laying the clothes down on his bed. “You have a half hour.” With that she retreated rather quickly from the room. As usual, Dan rushed after her, pressing his ear against the door as it shut.

“I’m going to get fired,” Cecily breathed, voice muffled through the wood.

“What’d you do?” Alfonzo demanded.

“I ripped the blankets off the prince when he wouldn’t get up.” There was a brief pause.

“So what kind of eulogy were you thinking of?” Bentley asked. “Happy, funny…?”

A familiar laugh lilted through the air, followed by, “Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t like that. Dan treasures his sleep.”

Immediately, Dan was ripping his door open and pointing his finger directly into Phil’s face. “Talking behind my back, were you?” he demanded loudly. Everyone, with the exception of Phil, went a bit pink in the face—possibly because he was still dressed in only his underwear. Phil just laughed.

“Get into my room before I strangle you,” he said imperiously, stepping back from the door and holding it open wider. Phil rolled his eyes as he stepped between the guards.

“I’ll talk to you guys later,” he said lightly, a genuine smile on his face. Dan glared at the guards for good measure (his friend would certainly _not_  be speaking to them later), before slamming the door in their faces. He slumped against it immediately after, throwing his head back in annoyance.

“I don’t wanna court a lady,” he moaned. Phil grabbed his wrist, his fingers cold against Dan’s skin, and dragged him towards his bed.

“It’ll be fine,” Phil promised. “Maybe this one’ll be amazing.” He sure was optimistic.

While Dan stood there slumped over, his face overwhelmed with a frown, Phil held open his shirt. Dan stepped forward with a sigh and slid his arms into the offered clothing. Phil stepped around him and began buttoning the buttons, his cool fingers brushing Dan’s stomach every so often and making him shiver.

“Just be polite,” Phil instructed, finally making eye contact with Dan. Dan snatched his trousers up from the bed and stepped into them angrily.

“I am polite,” he said gruffly.

“No you’re not,” Phil answered without hesitation. “Here—let’s practice.” Dan looked at him askance.

“I don’t need to practice,” Dan insisted.

“Yes you do. I’ll be Lady Anne.”

“What if I want to be Lady Anne?” Dan argued. He’d forgotten the woman’s name, but hearing it roll off Phil’s tongue cemented it in his mind. Without missing a beat, Phil stepped forward and grabbed Dan’s hand, raising it up to his mouth. His breath washed across it with every word he spoke.

“Anne,” he said. “I am most pleased to see you today—your beauty surpasses that of all others’.” Dan pretended to gag. Phil ignored him. He grabbed Dan’s chin and tilted it upward dramatically, and Dan finally shoved him away.

“This is stupid,” he said.

“Only because you’re a bad actor,” Phil proclaimed. “I think I could play a convincing Dan.”

“You couldn’t,” Dan argued. “I’m complex.”

Phil cleared his throat before dramatically swooning, his hand thrown over his head. “Perhaps if I sleep this wretched day will pass faster and I can see my one true friend again!” he cried, before suddenly straightening and clutching Dan by his newly acquired shirt. “Philip! I shall write you a letter!”

Dan shoved Phil away again, shaking his head with a laugh. “Fuck off!” he yelled. “You write me letters just as often, you bastard.” Phil simply shrugged before snatching the last item of clothing off the bed and holding it up, his eyebrow raised in question.

Dan ripped the cape out of Phil’s hands and threw it over his shoulders, expertly doing the button at his throat and allowing it to settle along his body. “You have _capes_?” Phil said incredulously.

“They’re in fashion right now,” Dan said simply, before turning to view himself in his floor length mirror. They _were_  in fashion, and they looked great on him. He met Phil’s eyes in the mirror, who was seeming to take Dan’s comment into consideration.

“You look like a ponce,” he finally decided.

Dan spun around, languishing in the fact that he knew he looked good as the cape fanned out dramatically behind him, and pointed his finger into Phil’s face.

“I could have you kicked out of here in seconds, Lester.”

“But you won’t,” Phil said easily, before grasping onto the sides of Dan’s arms and tugging him into an embrace. Dan struggled and demanded to be let go, but really he found he quite liked it, being tucked away in Phil’s arms. Phil was warm and soft and fleetingly, confusingly, Dan wondered what it might be like to lie down with him like this. He felt as if he could fall asleep standing.

Without warning, Phil spun him around and latched onto his shoulders, leading him towards the door.

“Time to court yourself a lady, Prince Daniel,” he said. Dan let himself be steered, figuring there was nothing he could do to get out of it anyway. He nodded to Alfonzo and Bentley as they passed, who immediately settled into a walk a few steps behind them. Phil’s guards must’ve been elsewhere—probably guarding Phil’s room while he was away.

“Perhaps I’ll throw up on her and she’ll have to go home,” Dan muttered to himself. Phil’s fingers dug harshly into his shoulders, making him break out of Phil’s grasp with a wince. He sent a hurt frown to his friend, reaching up to rub the sore area.

“Why are you so averse to meeting ladies, Dan?” Phil questioned. Dan thought he heard one of the guards behind them snicker, and he immediately whipped his head around with a glare, debating which one he was going to have to tear apart.

“Not _all_  ladies, Phil. Just these ladies,” Dan answered. “They’re stuck up and annoying. And frilly. And they giggle too much.”

“Just keep an open mind,” Phil insisted. “Try not to judge her before you’ve even gotten to know her.” With that, they were pausing in the entryway before the greeting room, a couple maids coming up to check that he was well prepared for the day. A younger boy lagged behind one of the maids, watching as they ran their hands over Dan’s clothes and straightened his cape for him. He recognized him from the other day, when he’d had his terrible courtship with the wretched Gertrude.

“Are you in training?” Dan asked him, curious. The boy’s eyes went wide with surprise, and the maids looking over him paused for a second in their actions, obviously shocked by the turn of events as well. Dan guessed it made sense that they would be, seeing as he rarely conversed with the servants.

“Er— yes!” the boy squeaked suddenly, his face rapidly growing redder. “My mum works in the kitchens, so I’m training around the castle as well.”

“Do you like it?” Everyone seemed surprised, yet again, that Dan was carrying on the conversation instead of having put an end to it already. He couldn’t help it though—he really was curious. Plus, he’d seen those two little girls the day before as well. He wondered how many apprentices were around that he’d never been fully aware of.

“Very much, Your Highness,” he answered, bowing his head slightly. Dan nodded thoughtfully.

“And what’s your name?”

“Cody,” the boy answered.

“And who’s your mother?” Dan was started to feel a bit like he was interrogating the boy.

“Charlotte,” Cody answered. Phil gasped.

“We know her!” he exclaimed, reaching out to smack Dan’s arm, just in case he had somehow managed to not hear him. Dan heard the familiar sound of swords being slightly drawn from their sheaths as the guards behind them prepared for Dan to order them to cut off Phil’s hand.

“We do?” he asked, turning to face Phil, who rolled his eyes.

“That was the night shift’s head cook,” he explained.

Dan nodded in recognition, absently wondering how Phil had managed to remember that for so long. He turned to face the boy. “You have a very nice mother,” he said with a slight dip of his head.

“I like your cape,” Cody blurted in response, his entire face going red instantaneously. Dan just smiled and turned to Phil triumphantly, before shaking off the maids and striding into the greeting room to meet Lady Anne.

—

Dan slumped into his rooms with a hearty sigh. Alfonzo and Bentley had given him sympathetic looks as he’d slunk passed by them wearily, utterly exhausted after his day of courting Lady Anne. She was certainly one who liked to hear her own voice. She’d talked and talked and talked to the point that Dan had begun to wonder if there’d ever been a moment in his life when he hadn’t been listening to her blather on. He hadn’t even gotten to say anything about himself, meanwhile he knew what her favorite _planet_  was. Who had a favorite planet anyway?

He automatically settled into his desk, whipping out a pen and paper immediately. He’d just brought the writing utensil down to the parchment when he realized that Phil was _here_. He didn’t really have to write down his day or talk about his thoughts on paper when he could do it in person.

In the end, Dan shook his head and started writing anyway. It was almost therapeutic, being able to get out his thoughts this way. He liked writing to Phil. Besides, it’s not like he ever had to give him these letters anyway.

When he was done, he folded up the letter and crossed his room, moving to put it with the stacks of letters he’d received from Phil. He tucked his letter away in exchange for a random letter from the pile, knowing that Phil’s words had always managed to cheer him up. He tried not to reread his letters too often, wanting to not remember every single little detail when he eventually did reread them. They were the perfect way to come back from a hard day, one with horrible ladies or annoying servants or harsh classes.

_Did you know that my mother asked me who I was writing letters to so often? When I told her it was you, she said, “Oh, you still talk to him?” No Mum, I ask to go to Hirona all the time because I think the weather is nice there._

_It annoys me to no end that my family doesn’t really understand our friendship. Martyn keeps telling me I should just talk to my friends here more often. I guess he’s never really had a friend like you, though, otherwise I’m sure he would understand. Talking to my other friends always pales in comparison to simply reading words from you._

_Before I forget, I have more books to recommend to you! I’m not going to tell you right here though, because I’ve already sent you a package with the books inside—you’ll hopefully have received those before you get this letter. They’re my personal copies of the books, and I’ve annotated in them a few times—I hope you don’t mind. Don’t worry about returning them though, you can keep them._

There were doodles all down the margins of the paper, sometimes correlating to what Phil wrote, and sometimes completely random. Next to the last paragraph there was a stick figure on a galloping horse, a book held aloft over his head. Phil had pointed to it and written “speedy transportation (hopefully)”.

Dan tucked the letter back into his drawer, his mood already improved, before he exited from his bedroom, his bathroom the destination he had in mind. He liked to enjoy a bath after having to deal with horrible ladies, but apparently his plan was to be disrupted, as someone shouted “En guard!” from behind him.

He spun around just in time to catch the handle of a wooden sword being tossed to him. The sword was the kind Dan had used when he was younger; he’d used to duel Phil with these.

“I don’t want to duel,” Dan muttered, looking at Phil resentfully.

“You can either try to block me as I attack you, or simply let yourself be smacked as I do,” Phil answered with a wild grin. And without further warning, he bounded forward, wooden sword raised.

Dan dodged backwards with a cry, raising his sword just in time for it to block Phil’s, the practice weapons clacking together loudly. Phil left him barely any time to recover before he was swinging again, dancing around Dan expertly. He had no reservations about hitting Dan, easily smacking him in the sides and arms and legs whenever Dan failed to block him. He was definitely going to be covered in bruises the next day, which he wouldn’t fail to complain about.

There weren’t even any opportunities for Dan to try to press forward and attack, as he was already doing all he could to defend himself (and still it was poorly).

“This isn’t… fair,” Dan panted, stumbling backwards as Phil’s sword came whistling down again. Dan raised his sword just in time for Phil to change his angle and swipe at Dan, smacking him hard in the side where he’d already hit him at least three other times. Dan winced and bared his teeth at his friend. “Bastard.”

“It is fair,” Phil answered easily, seeming for all the world as if he were occupying a leisurely activity. “You could be as good as me if you’d simply practiced.”

“How was I supposed to know you were practicing?” Dan managed to demand through a series of wheezes, during which Phil landed two more hits. “You never said so in your letters.”

“I never told you I was bathing either, and yet I did,” Phil responded, tapping him lightly on the arm. Finally, Dan decided he’d had enough.

With a growl, he ripped his cape off and threw it aside, annoyed with the way it felt while he was trying to move about quickly, and pounced on Phil. They both tumbled to the ground, Phil throwing his arms out to break his fall, but Dan wasted no time trying to protect himself; the carpet was plush and barely hurt when his knees crashed into it. He was situated on top of Phil’s lap and he hurriedly pinned his friend’s hands to the ground so he couldn’t fight back. Dan pressed his sword against Phil’s neck.

“I win,” he declared, panting and sweaty and in dire need of a bath.

Phil only cocked an eyebrow. In the blink of an eye, Dan found himself being slammed onto the carpet, Phil’s weight pinning him easily. How had he dislodged Dan so simply? He really must’ve had a much more extensive training in the arts of defense and attack.

“I win,” Phil imitated, pressing the sword to Dan’s neck as he had done to Phil. Inexplicably, Dan shivered.

“Get off me,” Dan finally demanded, glaring at his friend. Phil laughed and rolled off him.

“You’re a sore loser,” he declared. Dan didn’t bother answering, instead deciding to enjoy the fact that he could breathe once again. He tilted his head, watching as Phil scrunched his fingers into the thick carpet. “You know,” Phil said conversationally. “Your carpet would be great to have sex on.”

Dan spluttered, immediately sitting up and gaping at Phil—embarrassed. He could feel his cheeks heating up.

“I take it you’ve never brought one of your ladies back to your room?” Phil asked casually.

“What? No!” Dan cried. A moment passed. “Have you…?”

“Yes,” Phil laughed, his eyes twinkling almost mischievously. Dan looked at his friend in a new light.

“What was it like?” he asked curiously, embarrassment still thrumming strongly through his body. It made no sense to him how utterly confident Phil was on the topic of sex. Even the few times Dan had touched himself had left him feeling residually embarrassed, despite nobody knowing it had even happened except him.

“Awkward,” Phil said simply, shrugging his shoulders. And then he continued. “Good.” After another moment of looking thoughtful, he added: “Loud.” Dan’s eyes widened at that.

“I can’t believe you’ve done… that,” Dan said, finally laying back down on the carpet. Phil looked at him with a grin.

“My father isn’t trying to marry me off anytime soon, so he doesn’t much care what I get up to.”

“Wish mine was like that,” Dan huffed.

“Would you have sex if you weren’t being pressured to find a wife?” Phil questioned. Dan was starting to curse his body for not letting him discuss this without turning into a tomato.

“Maybe,” he answered. “I guess it would depend. I won’t really know until I’m married though, so.”

Phil nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m gonna go bathe,” Dan said finally, dragging himself to his feet and sidestepping towards his bathroom. “Also, I was thinking that we could have a sleepover tonight.”

Phil grinned widely, his eyes alight with excitement. They’d had sleepovers when they were younger too, nights that they spent in each other’s rooms. Dan could understand Phil’s excitement, which was why he’d offered the invitation in the first place. He’d been almost afraid that Phil would reject him, saying that they were too old for sleepovers or something.

He was pleasantly proven wrong. “I’ll go take a bath as well. I’ll see you in an hour!” Phil yelled, before jumping to his feet and running from the room, the two wooden swords forgotten on the floor.

Dan paused for only a moment before following and listening through the door.

“See you later!” Phil called. Dan could hear the guards spluttering.

“When did you get in here?” Bentley finally demanded. Dan just rolled his eyes. He and Phil had been sparring for the last hour without anyone knowing Phil was here? Phil could’ve brought real swords, for God’s sake. Dan could be dead.

He stalked back across the room and into the small living room, where he picked up a sword. He handled it uncertainly for a moment before dropping into a defensive position. After all, he’d never be able to defend himself from Phil if he didn’t practice.

After working up a sweat all over again, Dan traipsed into the bathroom and undressed, knowing Phil would likely be back before he was finished bathing. He winced as he looked at himself in the mirror, dark, blotchy bruises already showing up all along his body. He was going to make Phil sorry for marring his beautiful skin.

Grumbling quietly to himself, Dan settled into the still steaming water, likely heated by the maids very recently. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, his mind still running over all the events that’d transpired that day. Still, when his thoughts cycled once more through the truths Phil had revealed, he found himself flushing in embarrassment again.


	4. Chapter 4

Dan sighed, the mass of bubbles and hot water lapping insistently against his shoulders. Though he knew it was probably past time for him to get out of the bath and entertain Phil for their sleepover, he couldn’t convince himself to leave the comfort of his bath. It was just as he was thinking this that the door banged open, Phil appearing in the doorway.

Dan shrieked indignantly, sliding further down under the water reflexively. “What are you doing!?” he demanded, glaring at Phil while bubbles tried to invade his mouth.

“I’m bored,” Phil answered simply, walking further into the room and having the actual gall to perch on the side of the bathtub. “And if you won’t come out there to entertain me, I have to come in here.”

Dan spluttered with embarrassment. “You can’t just _be_  in here,” he said finally, still holding himself uncomfortably underneath the water’s surface of frothy bubbles. His hand had drifted down to cover himself modestly, though he knew there was no way Phil could see through all the froth.

“I don’t see why not,” Phil answered simply. He settled more comfortably on the side of the bath, leaning his back against the wall and letting his feet rest on the side of the tub. They were bare, as he was clothed only in pajama pants and a comfortable looking sleep shirt.

“What if there hadn’t been any bubbles?” Dan argued. It was impossible to ignore how his face was so red now. While earlier he’d been enjoying a relaxing bath, he was now stiff and uncomfortable.

“Then I would’ve seen princely penis,” Phil answered with a shrug. Dan choked, his face heating up even more. _You can’t just_ say _that_ , he wanted to declare, but before he could even open his mouth Phil was tugging up the hems of his pajama bottoms and spinning around, dropping his feet into the tub.

For a moment, Phil’s feet brushed Dan’s, before Dan made an embarrassing sounding squeak and scrambled backwards, so that his back was pressed against the other side of the tub. This, unfortunately, exposed everything from his bellybutton up to the cool air of the bathroom. Phil said nothing about the various bruises that were left over on his skin from their sparring match, though he could obviously see them.

“I’m done bathing now,” Dan announced loudly. “Get out while I dry off.”

Phil simply rolled his eyes but obediently removed himself from the water, purposefully flicking bubbles at Dan as he did.

Dan toweled off quickly once Phil left the bathroom, half afraid that he would burst back in again. He wrapped a robe around himself, striding through his rooms with his head held high. He ignored Phil, lounging on his bed and rifling through the contents of his bedside table once again, and stepped into his closet. He tugged on silk pajamas and thick, warm socks before stepping out of the closet and leaning against the door frame.

"Are you ever gonna stop snooping through my things?" he demanded, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. It wasn’t as though he had anything incriminating in there, just Phil's letters, his own unsent letters, and a few books. Of course, there were other random odds and ends in there as well, but he wasn't too worried.

"Not sure," Phil answered easily, holding up a silver ring. He grinned then. "You still have this?"

Dan shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. It was annoying how normally he had such an easy time of being stoic and unapproachable, but the second he was in Phil's company he turned into putty, blushing and stumbling over his words.

"Yeah," he finally said, trying to brush it off. It was one of a set. The last time Phil had been in Hirona, they'd decided to cement their friendship by purchasing friendship rings. At they time they'd both worn and flaunted them, but after Phil had left Dan had found it embarrassing to be wearing jewelry.

"Good," Phil said with a smile. He tossed the ring at Dan, who surprisingly, caught it. Almost unthinkingly, he slid it on.

"And where's yours?" Dan finally demanded, crossing his arms. Phil simply raised an eyebrow.

"Right here," he answered, before pulling the chain of a necklace out from under his shirt, a ring dangling on the end of it. Inexplicably, Dan grinned.

"Good."

—

After spending a good amount of time lying on opposite ends of his bed, both staring at the ceiling and talking about anything and everything, they decided it was time to sleep. Soon enough they were both scrambling under the covers, all the torches blown out. And then it was silent.

For some reason, Dan’s heart was pounding in his chest. He felt a little bit like he couldn’t breathe, and while he laid there and tried to convince himself to relax, he just couldn’t make himself comfortable. He felt stiff and his limbs started to itch the more he thought about how he wanted to move, but he felt like he _couldn’t_.

Dan closed his eyes and tried to force himself to fall asleep—breathing as little as he could to resist being heard. Sanctuary found him nearly half an hour later.

“Hey Dan?” Phil whispered, quietly enough that if Dan were actually asleep he wouldn’t have woken up. Dan started slightly, not realizing that they’d both been awake this entire time. And how weird was that—the both of them just laying next to each other silently in the dark?

“Yeah?” he answered, glad for the distraction.

“I’m kind of hungry.”

“Thank God,” Dan answered absently.

“What?”

“I mean—let’s go to the kitchens,” he corrected, and scrambled to get out of bed. He didn’t bother to light any torches, just carefully stepped in the direction of the door, the plush carpet soft and thick under his socked feet.

“Where are you?” Phil whispered, for no conceivable reason. Regardless, Dan answered him in a whisper as well.

“Over here.” He stood still, inhaling sharply when Phil’s outstretched hands collided with his back. Dan reached behind himself and grabbed one of Phil’s wrists, leading him slowly through his room, and from there the living room, until they reached the door.

Dan creaked it open slowly, blushing as he made eye contact with the guards. He’d almost forgotten they were here. The shift must’ve changed at some point, as it was now Lin and Elaine standing outside his door.

“Going somewhere, Prince?” Lin asked, stepping aside lightly to let Dan through. Dan just gave a gruff nod, emerging from his room and glancing behind himself once to make sure Phil was following.

“Hi,” Phil greeted the guards, who each greeted him in return. Dan just struck off down the corridor, walking confidently despite his night attire. It was unusual not to hear the familiar clacking of his shoes on the stone floor, instead just the quiet _shh_  of his socks with every step. Phil hastened to catch up.

“Shall we accompany you?” Lin called after them, taking a step as if to do so.

Without looking back, Dan answered, “No,” and kept on. He lead Phil down a few different hallways and eventually a staircase, giving the wide wall of windows an appreciative glance—the city was all lit up with torches, even at the late hour—before slowing in front of the kitchen.

“Any idea as to what we should eat?” Dan asked, before slowly opening the door and glancing around cautiously to make sure no one was around. The kitchen seemed thoroughly abandoned, though a few torches were still lit along the walls. Dan grabbed one and set about lighting the others as he glanced around curiously, enjoying the kitchen much more now that it was vacant of cooks.

“Cake,” Phil answered easily, also taking in the kitchen, looking around at everything curiously. He’d been here before, of course, but it _had_  been a while. Dan finally replaced the torch, glancing towards the ground with a small frown. It really was quite disgusting to be wearing just socks around the castle, especially in the kitchen—he couldn’t imagine what the undersides of his socks looked like right then. Dan glanced at Phil’s feet, horrified to find them bare, the toes curled slightly against the floor.

“You’re not wearing socks?!” Dan suddenly exclaimed, looking up at Phil’s face in exasperation.

“Er—no?” Phil answered, giving his feet a cursory glance.

“That’s disgusting,” Dan sniffed. Phil just shrugged.

“I didn’t wear them so I’d be able to put my feet in the bath.”

Turning away so that Phil wouldn’t see the color darkening his cheeks, Dan scoffed. “Well now you’ll have to do it again. I’m not letting you into my bed with dirty feet.”

Phil just snorted. “Is that what you say to all the girls you court?”

Dan spluttered, spinning around to face Phil incredulously, who looked entirely too pleased with himself. Dan grabbed the nearest thing to him—a wooden spoon—and threw it as Phil’s head. Surprisingly, Phil caught it, and he angled it at Dan.

“Oh, is that the game you want to play?” he asked threateningly. Dan only had a chance to widen his eyes before Phil was diving forward and swiping at Dan.

“Phil!” he shrieked, leaping backwards and narrowly avoiding colliding with a large metal counter.

“I think the problem with your sword training is the fact that you have a sword,” Phil said calmly, slicing his spoon through the air towards Dan once more. Dan stepped out of the way just in time, glaring at Phil all the while.

“That makes no sense,” he snapped, reaching for a utensil of his own. He came up with a whisk, which he leveled at Phil.

“I’m serious,” Phil answered, and this time when he swung Dan swung back, except Phil dodged him easily and ended up snapping the spoon down on Dan’s arm, making him hiss and lurch backwards. “When you have a weapon you’re too focused on attacking to defend yourself, to dodge.”

“Not true,” Dan muttered, raising his whisk once more. He stepped in close to Phil, moving his whisk so quickly he was sure it would make contact—until Phil’s spoon was deflecting him before thwacking him soundly on ribcage.

“It is,” Phil answered easily, and then he knocked the whisk from Dan’s hand, making it clatter on the floor, and was lunging towards him the very next second. Dan dodged out of the way, again and again as Phil pressed forward. Grudgingly, he was forced to admit that Phil might be right, that he might be more knowledgeable in this area.

He finally relented when Dan was pressed back against a counter at the far end of the room, though not before placing his spoon against Dan’s chin and tilting his head back.

“I win!” he sung joyfully, and Dan scoffed, even while he was still forced to look at the ceiling.

“You did not,” he muttered, but Phil dragged the wooden spoon down his neck, and this—for some reason—made Dan gasp. Finally, he shoved Phil out of the way, his face and neck flushed pink and his heart stuttering in his chest.

“Do you want cake or not?” he demanded.

“I do,” Phil said eagerly.

Dan glared at him in response and stomped to the other side of the kitchen. He started opening cabinets at random, pulling out a whole plethora of ingredients.

“All of this goes in a cake?” Phil questioned, picking up a box of cumin powder.

“Er—I’m not sure,” Dan said sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “Although I’m pretty sure that’s not in it,” he relented, putting the cumin powder back on the shelf. He scanned the ingredients with squinted eyes, hoping that if he concentrated hard enough he’d know exactly what he needed.

“And how do we know how much of everything to put in it?” Phil then asked.

“Uhh…” Dan paused, tapping his lip as he thought. Sometimes he forgot that Phil was just as much a prince as him, and that though he was better at some things—like sparring—he really didn’t know how to do chores such as cooking and cleaning any better than Dan did. “I think you just… grab a couple handfuls of it all and mix it all together.”

“And then?”

“Er—light it on fire?”

“You absolutely do _not_ ,” answered a stern voice from behind them, in answer to which Dan screamed. He and Phil both spun around, wide-eyed.

“Charlotte!” Phil suddenly gasped, his mouth dropping open in recognition and surprise at seeing the night shift’s head cook. Charlotte ignored him.

“I came to see who was making all this racket in my kitchen—thought it might be a pair of guards again. So why am I not surprised to see you two?”

“It’s good to see you again, Charlotte,” Phil answered, no apology forthcoming. Finally, Charlotte cracked a smile, stepping forward to draw him into an embrace.

“And you as well, Prince Philip.”

“It’s Phil,” Phil said easily. Charlotte smiled. Dan could remember Phil offering her his name in familiarity when they were young as well, though Dan hadn’t bothered. Nobody called him Dan except for Phil, actually.

Charlotte turned to him then, almost expectantly, her eyebrow raised. Dan raised his chin exactingly.

“We want cake,” he informed. For a second, Charlotte’s expression was blank, and then she smiled.

“Of course, Prince Daniel,” she answered. She turned away, returning the majority of the ingredients Dan had pulled from the cupboards and replaced them with others. She even procured _milk_. Who would’ve thought to put milk in a cake?

Dan hopped up onto the counter, swinging his legs slightly, and Phil leaned against the counter beside him. Charlotte set about making the cake, using odd little metal cups to scoop the dry ingredients, scraping the excess off with the back of a knife and dumping them all into a big bowl. She eventually added eggs, which Dan tried not to look too eager about as he surreptitiously leaned closer and watched her with wide eyes, amazed at how she cracked the delicate thing in two without managing to have it break all into the mixing bowl. He was pretty sure he wasn’t as sneaky as he felt, however, as Charlotte moved a step closer and repeated the performance again, her expert hands cracking the egg and catching the excess dripping insides without letting them dribble all over the floor. She then tossed the shells into the sink.

“You wanna try?” she asked, and Dan’s eyes widened hopefully, before he crushed it down. He’d probably just end up embarrassing himself anyway—it wasn’t as if he’d ever cracked an egg before, he couldn’t imagine how his first try might go.

“No,” Dan scoffed, scooting further away from her. “That’s servants’ work.”

“I do!” Phil butt in, taking a step closer to her eagerly. She held out an egg and an alternative bowl, instructing Phil to hit the egg against the edge of the bowl but not hard enough to break the egg completely. Despite himself, Dan leaned closer to watch, his mouth dropping open in astonishment as Phil accomplished the task easily, cheering loudly as the yellow and white parts of the egg plopped into the bowl. He tilted the egg back then, catching the excess.

“Good job,” Charlotte praised, and Dan swallowed jealously. Finally, she turned to Dan once again.

“You sure you don’t want to try, Prince?”

“I—no, of course not,” he said firmly, turning his face away from her. Phil scoffed loudly.

“Just try it Dan. Otherwise you won’t be able to help me make a cake next time,” he said. Charlotte muttered something about never letting either of them make something in her kitchen, which they both ignored. Dan guessed it made sense, anyway—Phil had been paying rather adamant attention to the proceedings of the cake-making, and Dan _would_  like to be able to make something on his own…

“Fine,” Dan snapped, snatching an egg out of the container and holding a hand out for the now empty bowl, the egg having been added to the mixture.

“So you just—” Charlotte began, before Dan interrupted.

“I know,” he said, angling his body away from the two participants. “I was listening.”

Concentrating hard, Dan lowered the egg towards the edge of the bowl gently. It tapped against the glass, not even cracking.

“A bit harder than that, Prince,” Charlotte instructed quietly. Dan glowered, his face rapidly heating as he glared into the bowl, clenching the egg slightly harder. However much he didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t feel like he was qualified to do anything in the egg cracking business—perhaps Phil had natural talent, but Dan couldn’t do anything of the sort.

Finally, he brought the egg down again, but this time a loud _smack_  echoed through the kitchen before the egg completely exploded, dripping all over his pants as well as into the bowl, egg shells dropping everywhere. Feeling hot all over and thoroughly embarrassed, Dan slammed the bowl onto the counter and slid off from it, spinning around without looking at either of the two other occupants of the kitchen, and electing to stalk to the door and make his escape quickly.

“Dan, wait!” Phil called, his bare feet padding loudly behind him. Dan kept walking.

What got him to stop was Charlotte’s soft voice. “Try again,” she said. Dan froze, his fists clenched at his sides, his thigh covered in cold, goopy egg insides.

“And make another mess?” he scoffed. He could feel the egg between the fingers of his left hand. It was sticky, and he smelled of it too.

“Kitchens are always messy,” Charlotte said easily. “It’s what you get for going where you don’t belong.”

Dan sniffed disdainfully. “It’s my castle,” he said. “I can go wherever I want.”

Charlotte just laughed, before calling him back again. Keeping his chin held high and his embarrassment at bay, Dan turned back around and joined her by the kitchen counter, shakily accepting the egg she passed to him. Phil watched on from Charlotte’s other side curiously.

“So this time, just a bit lighter than that. It’s okay if you have to hit it a few times lightly to get it to split apart, but as you’ve seen, once you hit it too hard, it’s wasted.” Dan nodded, and carefully, he cracked the egg against the side of the bowl. Remarkably, he did it correctly, and he held the egg over the bowl in amazement as the yolk and whites dropped into it.

“I did it!” he breathed, before he coughed. “As I knew I could.” Charlotte just snorted and snatched the dripping eggshell from his fingers and tossed it into the sink before handing him a towel, which he used to clean his fingers as well as his pajamas.

Finally, Charlotte continued to prepare the cake, measuring and mixing ingredients, Phil asking enough questions for the both of them. Soon enough, Dan felt relatively educated and was feeling quite glad that he hadn’t done his best bet of mixing a bunch of ingredients together and lighting it on fire. And, as it turned out, cakes took a bit longer to make than he thought, and lighting them on fire to speed up the process wasn’t the solution. It had to be placed in the oven and slowly heated up with a fire under the grate, which heated the entire box and baked the cake. Charlotte slid a heavy glass panel in front of the open fire to keep the heat from pervading the room. He and Phil sat eagerly before the oven until the batter rose and turned a golden brown, at which point they were close to squealing with excitement.

“Charlotte!” Phil called to Charlotte, who was working on the other side of the kitchen—cleaning, or something. “I think it’s really done this time!”

“A few more minutes, Phil. I assure you,” she answered.

“No,” Dan chimed in. “It’s for real done now. It’s _golden brown_.” Sighing a long suffering sigh, Charlotte marched across the room with a fork in hand and thick mitts over her hand. She slid open the glass door and stabbed the fork into the cake—quite viciously, Dan might add—before holding it up in front of their faces, not for the first time.

“See?” she said, shaking the fork. “There’s still batter on the fork, meaning it’s not fully cooked on the inside. We just have to give it another few minutes.”

Dan glared. “I want it to be done now,” he muttered angrily. Though Phil wasn’t blunt enough to say so as plainly, he nodded in agreement.

“Well it’s not,” Charlotte said firmly. “I’d be happy to bring it up to your rooms once it’s finished.”

“That totally defeats the purpose of the midnight snack,” Dan argued. “We have to eat it in the kitchen for it to count.”

Just then, a loud “Mum!” came from somewhere on the other side of the kitchen, close to where the servants’ door led. The small boy from earlier, named Cody, if Dan was remembering correctly, came slouching around the corner rubbing his eyes, his hair a mess. He froze when he finally looked up, seeing Dan and Phil sitting on the floor.

“Cody,” Charlotte said, her voice softening considerably as she talked to her son. “You know Prince Daniel, of course. And this is Prince Philip.”

Cody nodded, his eyes a bit wide, looking almost shy.

“Call me Phil,” Phil said easily. Cody smiled again.

“What did you want?” his mother asked softly. Cody sniffed, likely smelling the sweet scent of the cake, and glanced hopefully towards the oven.

“Well, Allison and Isabelle wanted a midnight snack,” he said. “And me.” Rolling her eyes, Charlotte just directed him over to a seat, having him sit down while she told him to wait for the cake to be ready.

“And after that, you three are going to bed,” she said strictly. “If I’d known you were all going to stay up this late I wouldn’t have let you have a sleepover.”

“We’re having a sleepover,” Phil said, smiling at the little boy, who grinned. Dan flushed, a bit inexplicably, though for some reason he felt it embarrassing to have Charlotte know they were having a sleepover. Or maybe it was just embarrassing to _call_  it a sleepover. Either way, it was probably impossible for Charlotte not to have known anyway.

“I have them all the time,” the boy answered proudly.

“This is my first one in a couple years,” Phil responded. Dan turned his head to the side, hiding his grin. He didn’t know why, but it made him strangely happy to know that Phil hadn’t been having sleepovers with other people either, not that Dan actually had any options.

His stomach rumbled with excitement as Charlotte finally retrieved the cake from the oven. Dan quickly jumped to his feet before hopping up onto the counter, Phil scrambling to stand behind him.

“Mum!” Cody said suddenly. “You never let me sit on the counter!”

Charlotte just shrugged. “He’s the prince, Cody,” she answered. “He can do whatever he wants.” _Damn right he could._  With that, she started spreading sweet, buttery frosting all over the cake and was soon serving them all up a slice—Cody getting three.

“Take those to your friends—don’t you dare eat them all,” she said threateningly, and then Cody was scurrying away, his plates held protectively as he disappeared back down the servants’ hallway.

He and Phil ate their cake quietly in the kitchen, humming with satisfaction and sneaking second pieces when Charlotte wasn’t looking. When Dan tried, unsuccessfully, to obtain a third piece, the cook finally shooed them from the kitchen.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she reprimanded, as Dan gave her his ‘I’m the _Prince_ ’ look. “You don’t want to get fat, do you?” Dan gasped in offense, before spinning and stomping down the hall, Phil giggling at his side. As if Dan could get fat when Phil was so intent on sparring him every two seconds!

“Don’t look so glum,” Phil said quietly, mischief threaded through his words. Dan glanced over at him, only to see him pull a plate with another slice out from behind his back. Dan couldn’t help giggling, bumping his shoulder into Phil’s as they ascended the stairs.

“We’ll get fat,” he whispered, giggling through his words.

“Nah,” Phil answered easily. “I like to start my mornings with a good sword fight.” Holding in his groan, Dan decided to just enjoy the fact that they actually had cake before they turned the hall and approached his rooms.

“Back from your excursion?” Elaine questioned.

“Mhm,” Dan hummed, squeezing past them and shoving his door open, blinking at the sudden darkness. He snatched a box of matches from the table near the door, striking one and holding it up to a torch as Phil followed behind him.

Instead of leading them towards his room, Dan took Phil straight to the bathroom before crossing his arms once they stopped in the doorway.

“Put your feet in,” Dan commanded, and Phil groaned.

“You were serious?”

“Completely.”

Thankfully, the maids had yet to clear his bathwater, and it was somehow still a bit warm, and so Phil submerged his feet without too much further argument.

“We should do massages,” Phil said, splashing his feet through the water.

“No way,” Dan answered firmly, and Phil frowned at him, glum. Dan ignored his expression and darted forward to snatch a bite of cake off the plate with his fingers, laughing as Phil protested and tried to hold the plate further away.

Soon enough they were climbing back into Dan’s bed—once Phil’s feet were sufficiently clean—and this time he had no trouble relaxing. He could breathe easily and he felt supremely comfortable and ready to sleep.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Phil suggested. Dan just laughed and reached over to slap him.

“Go to sleep,” he instructed, before facing away from Phil and doing just that.

—

Sharing a bed with Phil was not conventional. Granted, they’d both been a lot smaller when they’d last shared a bed, but Dan didn’t understand how that constituted Dan being pushed to just the very edge of the bed, Phil sprawled out over the rest of it. To make matters worse, his foot was digging into Dan’s side, which didn’t make much sense, but Dan couldn’t deny the facts.

He groaned softly, rolling out of bed and heading to the bathroom. He went through his usual morning activities as usual before returning to his room, pausing when he heard voices.

“…to see you. I wasn’t Prince Daniel’s personal maidservant until recently, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember me.”

“I do remember you. Weren’t you the one who we convinced to play tag with us?” Phil’s sleepy voice said slowly, his brain obviously struggling to project his words as quickly as he wanted to.

“Yes!” Cecily said with a laugh. Dan hardly remembered whatever Phil was talking about, but he guessed it made sense. Cecily was only a couple years older than them anyway, and for all Dan could remember, she’d always been around. She was right about only recently becoming Dan’s personal maidservant. His previous one had been an old, grouchy lady, who he’d managed to ignore on most occasions and hid from whenever possible.

Though the thought of Cecily having played tag with them unsettled Dan a bit. He realized that this meant she’d definitely seen his younger form sprinting across the grounds, shrieking and laughing as he raced away from whoever was chasing him. He’d even taken to hiding behind bushes and climbing trees to escape his pursuers before.

Dan finally emerged from the doorway, noticing when Phil’s eyes flitted directly to him. “Morning Dan,” he said. Dan ignored him.

“Why are you here, Cecily?” he inquired. “I have nothing planned for today—surely you weren’t about to wake me up?”

Cecily rolled her eyes, and Dan glared at her before stomping across the room and climbing back into his bed, dragging the covers over his body. “And you hog the bed,” he muttered angrily to Phil, before burrowing into himself and closing his eyes.

“I thought you might be in the mood to ride today,” Cecily said finally, a hint of amusement in her voice. “After all it’s been a few days since you’ve ridden Alamo—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Dan was on his feet again and in his closet. “Leave my rooms, Cecily. I must change and it’d be indecent if you saw me.” Cecily rolled her eyes but turned around to leave.

“I’ll go prepare your horse,” she said.

“And one for Phil as well!” he called after her. And then he was changing into his riding leathers as fast as he could. He’d been busy the last couple of days and riding had only crossed his mind a handful of times, but it really was one of his favorite things to do. It felt as if he could never get enough of it, even when he’d been out for hours and his horse was lathered in sweat, he still wanted to go on. Sometimes he did, switching horses and continuing. He always woke up sore the mornings after that, his entire body hurting something awful—but it was worth it.

“Let’s go!” Dan called, sticking his head back out of the closet to look at Phil, who was still laying on the bed and looking like he was struggling to catch up with how fast everything was moving.

“But… I don’t have riding clothes…”

Dan pelted spare leathers at Phil’s face, which he blinked at after the impact. “You can borrow mine.”

“Breakfast?” Phil managed.

“No time!”

In the end, they did have time, though only because Phil insisted. Dan, in turn, insisted that they just swing by the kitchens, as there really _was_  no time to sit down and eat a proper breakfast. At least, for them there wasn’t. Because Dan wanted to be riding as soon as possible—wanted to feel the wind in his hair and the horse underneath him, wanted to see Phil galloping by his side before he outstripped his friend, forcing his own horse into a faster gallop and laughing as he left Phil in his dust.

Soon enough, Dan was storming through the castle with Phil fast on his heels, dressed to the nines in riding clothes and ready to spend the day in the brisk cool air with the wind in their faces. Dan grinned as they left the confines of the building, smelling the sharp bite of residual winter in the air—almost making room for spring. The trees were going to bloom soon, Dan just knew it, and he was ecstatic to have Phil here with him. Unless he had to leave before they bloomed.

“Hey Phil,” Dan said, glancing at his friend as they made their way towards the stables.

“Hm?”

“How long are you staying in Hirona anyway? If you won’t tell me why you came—”

“Until you beat me,” Phil interrupted.

“Until I beat you,” Dan amended. “Then can you at least tell me when I should suspect to lose your companionship?”

“Not for a long while,” Phil answered, meanwhile Dan’s heart decided to take a vacation into his throat. “Or at least, I think so. My father didn’t say anything about an end date—he made it sound as if this were to be a long trip.”

Dan couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face, invading his features and probably making him look pathetically happy. “Good,” he answered.

And then they were at the stables, breathing in the familiar scent of hay and horse and slightly less good smells. Two horses were indeed saddled—Dan’s horse, Alamo, and another named Dallas. A couple servants were milling around the stables, cleaning and caring for the horses. Dan ignored them and walked into Alamo’s stall, giving him a friendly pat on the neck. He leaned back out of the stall, looking towards one of the servants.

“Have any sugar cubes?” he asked.

“Of course, Your Highness,” the servant answered, scrambling forward and pulling the sugar cubes out of a pocket in his apron. Dan held the treats out for Alamo, murmuring about what a good horse he was. Phil just laughed, thanking the servant as he handed him more sugar cubes for Dallas.

“Ready?” Dan asked, turning to grin at Phil, who nodded.

While Phil had been constantly practicing with his sparring these last three years, dueling in his free time, Dan had been riding. And while Phil could easily defeat him in a sparring match, at least currently, Dan was confident that he could outstrip Phil. And he was right.

It was only a matter of moments later when they were both trotting out of the stables, and then Dan was taking off at a gallop, kicking his horse into action. He was flying, feeling as he often felt atop his horse, laughing into the wind and letting it carry his voice behind him to his friend. He urged Alamo faster, harder, further, until they were at the actual training course and Dan was showing off even more, performing erratic and spectacular jumps. He could hear Phil yelling and cheering and complaining behind him, and he loved every second of it, twisting in his saddle to see Phil smartly going around the obstacles, obviously not practiced enough to jump them.

Dan let out a shout into the air, a shout of victory, and he was off again, running laps around Phil and jumps that left his heart soaring as well as his horse, that got his adrenaline pumping through his veins and made him feel so light and awake that he knew he could be out here all day, knew he could go at it for hours. This was how he’d made it through all those years without Phil, how he’d gotten through the long days spent aimlessly in the castle, bored and longing for his friend. He’d ridden—he’d outrun the sadness and the longing and flown instead; had ridden until he was so bone-weary exhausted that his only choice was to sleep—until he could wake up the next day and ride again.

“You’ll ride your horse to death,” his father had once commented, after Dan had arrived at dinner late for the third night in a row, his hair still wet from his hurried bath.

“I won’t,” Dan had said assuredly. “I switch between them, of course.” But Alamo was his favorite. Alamo was _his_.

Just as Dan glanced behind himself once more to grin at Phil, Alamo let out a frightened whinny, suddenly jerking to his hind legs and almost throwing Dan off. He grunted at the effort of staying on, managing to open his eyes and see what his horse was so afraid of—and there, in their path, stood a family of foxes. It didn’t make any sense, the horse enclosure was large, yes, but it was extremely secure—there was no way any animals should’ve been able to get in. And yet here they were.

There was a moment of relief as Alamo returned to his front legs, but then he was bucking back up again, and no matter how tightly Dan clung to the reins, he couldn’t help it as his body was thrown from the horse.

Dan groaned as he struck the ground, sliding a good few feet, the grass scratching along his body and his back and arm throbbing quite painfully. _Fucking foxes,_  Dan thought. _I could’ve broken my neck._

“Dan!” Phil cried, suddenly crouching beside him. He must’ve jumped off his horse. “Are you okay? Can you hear me Dan?”

“Fucking foxes,” Dan muttered. He closed his eyes.

“Hey!” Phil shouted. Dan’s eyes snapped open and he glared at his friend.

“What?” he demanded.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Phil insisted.

“I’m not dying,” Dan scoffed. “I’m humiliated. I can’t believe I fell off my horse.”

Phil just huffed before he started urging Dan to his feet. He limped with Phil towards Dallas, allowing Phil to help him onto the horse before his friend got onto it himself. He sat snugly behind Dan and reached around him for the reins before taking off a fast trot back towards the stables, probably being extra careful not to jostle Dan.

He just leaned back against Phil, luxuriating in the heat of his body. They should ride together more often if it felt this nice. Though Dan supposed the horse wouldn’t be able to go as fast with the two of them on it, and he didn’t know if he was willing to sacrifice that. Alamo was the best, after all.

“Alamo!” Dan gasped suddenly, wrenching himself away from Phil and twisting in his saddle to look around the field.

“Shh,” Phi said immediately, once of his hands dropping the reins to rest on Dan’s stomach and pull him back against Phil. “I’ll send a stable boy back out for him.” Dan nodded in thanks.

He closed his eyes until they arrived, for some reason, at the front of the castle. Phil talked to a guard out there about Dan falling (as if he wasn’t embarrassed enough!) and asked for someone to take the horse back to the stables while he escorted Dan to the infirmary.

“I don’t need to go the the infirmary!” Dan protested, even as he let Phil guide him there, a random guard lagging behind them, having decided to follow them at the door. The rest were still out front guarding the castle—except for the one returning Dallas and sending a stable boy out for Alamo. And Dan swore, if Alamo wasn’t in top condition, if he wasn’t being pampered and cared for… Well, then somebody was going to have to face his princely fury.

Phil knocked lightly on the infirmary door, waiting for the “come in!” before entering. He led Dan inside, arm still wrapped embarrassingly around him, and made him sit on the dumb-nurse-bed-thing.

“I’m fine,” Dan insisted, even as the nurse came over and started messing with him, prodding his body and shining lights in his eyes.

“You have a mild concussion,” she concluded, at which Dan’s eyes widened. He had a _what_?! “Nothing major—you just need to take it easy for the next few days. No reading, no physical activity, and get lots of sleep.” No reading? Dan couldn’t not read! He’d be bored out of his mind, what was he supposed to do all that time?

“I’ll read to you,” Phil suggested, and belatedly, Dan realized that he’d been complaining out loud, not that it was unheard of for him to complain—he was just usually aware when he was doing it.

“You haven’t broken anything, but you may have some bruising around your arm and back,” the nurse concluded. “Again, just take it easy.”

Dan thought about how he _already_  had bruises, thanks to Phil’s vigorous sparring. Although maybe this concussion was a good thing—after all, he wouldn’t have to spar Phil for the next few days, and Phil had said he was going to read to him. Though he would probably have to keep Phil from sleeping over again if he wanted to get a good night’s rest—it wasn’t as if anyone could sleep properly in the same bed as Phil when he hogged the entire bed the way he did.

Finally, Dan was allowed to go back to his room, escorted by both Phil and the random guard.

“What happened?” Alfonzo said worriedly as their progression approached. Dan decided to let Phil explain as he stepped between the guards and into his room, exhaustion quickly falling over him. Was he really so tired because of a silly little concussion?

He took one step towards his room before thinking better of it, and despite his exhaustion, pressed his ear against the door.

“…off his horse. He has a mild concussion but he’ll be fine—he just needs to rest.”

“How could the Prince have fallen off his horse?” Bentley demanded. “He’s the best rider around.”

“Are you just saying that because he’s probably listening right now?” Alfonzo asked. Dan flushed, and he probably would’ve flung the door open and yelled at Alfonzo for accusing him of such things if he’d had more energy.

“Of course not,” Bentley answered. “I’ve seen him ride before. It’s like he’s… flying. Like there isn’t a thought in his head except going faster.”

“It’s true,” Phil chimed in. “I saw it today. It was incredible.”

Alfonzo hummed. “I gotta see this for myself.”

“Wait, but how did he fall off?” Bentley asked, getting back to the point.

“Foxes,” Phil answered. “I don’t know how they got in, but I think the servants down in the stables are going to search the premises.”

“That’s strange,” Alfonzo answered. “Nothing should be able to get in there. I have to make rounds across that land sometimes and it’s locked in tight—not a hole in that beautiful fencing.”

There were thoughtful hums.

“Well I’m going to go see Dan off to sleep,” Phil said finally. “He seemed pretty exhausted.”

Eyes widening, Dan realized Phil was about to come into his rooms. Normally he would’ve sprinted to his bed, but his head had begun pounding, and he didn’t think he could make it if he wanted to. Having nothing better to do, Dan pressed himself against the wall behind the door and closed his eyes. He listened as the door opened and then clicked shut, keeping his eyes clenched and wondering if Phil had perhaps walked passed him. And then he heard Phil’s laughter, directly in front of him.

Dan opened his eyes to regard his friend.

“Come on you eavesdropping spoon,” he said, latching onto Dan’s arm and pulling him with him. Dan just tagged along after him, not bothering to care that he’d been caught.

He let himself be led back to his room, where he then collapsed onto his bed with his face in the pillows. He vaguely felt Phil fixing the comforter over him, but he couldn’t really concentrate on it as he was already falling asleep.

—

“Time to wake up, Prince,” Cecily’s wretched voice said sweetly.

“Fuck off,” Dan answered into his pillow. He hated Cecily. Why did she always feel as if she should steal him from sleep’s beautiful, wondrous clutches? She could perish for all he cared.

“That’s no kind of language for a prince,” Cecily muttered, before huffing loudly. “It’s dinner time. You’ve slept through the day, and if you don’t wish for Prince Philip to attend dinner with your father alone, it’s time to get up.”

It was, originally, the fact that he’d slept for so long that actually awakened him. And then it was the realization that he would never wish that kind of awkward dinner on his best friend that had him dragging himself out of bed. He blinked in confusion.

“When did I put on pajamas?” he asked.

“Beats me, Prince Concussion,” Cecily answered. Dan opened his mouth indignantly, but she was already half-way across the room, and he half had to wonder if he’d imagined it. After all, he’d apparently changed himself into pajamas, and he had no recollection of that.

Deciding that his head and limbs hurt too much to put effort forward into changing his clothes, he decided to attend dinner as he was. He slumped through his rooms and pulled open his door, surprised to find Cecily talking to Bentley and Alfonzo. Dan blinked, wondering why he wasn’t listening from the other side of the door.

“Prince,” Alfonzo greeted with a small smile. Dazed, Dan nodded at him.

“I have to go to dinner,” he announced.

“We’re aware,” Alfonzo replied. Dan nodded again, until he realized that doing so hurt his head, and he lifted his hand to his head with a wince.

“Escort me?” he said, and Alfonzo agreed immediately, falling into step behind Dan. Dan found that his steps were slow and unsteady, and it was taking an abnormally long time to arrive at the dining hall.

“‘Fonzo,” Dan managed, and Alfonzo made a noise of affirmation, stepping forward. “Help me?”

With that, Alfonzo let Dan clutch onto his arm for the remainder of the journey, which went along much faster when Dan didn’t have to think so much about standing. He mumbled something that might’ve been a thank you once he arrived and ventured into the room himself, finding his father and Phil both seated at the table. He made his way to his own chair, seating himself with a slight wince and looking around the table with interest.

“Thank you for joining us,” his father said, and Dan looked up at him, before remembering his attire. He’d never attended dinner in his pajamas before, that he could remember. There was a strange glint in his father’s eye; he couldn’t quite tell if it was amusement or disapproval.

“Oh—yes,” he answered. “No problem.”

His father lifted a chunk of steak to his mouth and chewed slowly. And chewed. And chewed. Until he swallowed and lifted his glass of water, taking a hearty swig. “So,” he said. “I hear you fell off your horse today.”

Dan huffed, resting one elbow on the table and propping his chin in it. “I guess.”

“Elbow,” his father admonished. Dan rolled his eyes—which immediately proved to be a bad idea, given the vicious throb his head provided him with—and removed it.

“How did it happen?” his father asked. Dan didn’t doubt that he already had all the details, whether from Phil or the nurse or just general gossip that got around with the servants. He wasn’t sure why his father was asking him now; if it was to rub it in—as he didn’t exactly approve as Dan’s love for riding (“It’s a means of transportation, Daniel. Not a leisure activity.”)—or in actual concern.

“Foxes,” Dan muttered in response. He dished some food onto his plate and grabbed his fork, but the thought of actually eating anything made him nauseous.

“But how did they get in?” his father pondered. Dan grunted. As if he would know—he wasn’t the one that did border patrol, he just rode the horses.

Dan finally looked over at Phil, who offered him a small, relieved smile. For some reason, Dan’s headache almost seemed to abate a little bit. Phil looked pretty relieved to see him there, and Dan managed to smile at him as best he could in response.

He went back to swirling his fork through the food on his plate, realizing that he really wasn’t going to be able to get any of it down. It must’ve been the concussion—normally he devoured everything in sight after a hard day of riding. He usually did the same after a long sleep as well.

“I have good news,” his father suddenly announced, and Dan looked up to see the man smiling. Dan thought about it for a moment, debating strongly about how his version of good news and his father’s version might differ. Good news for him might be that the foxes were gone and his horse was perfectly safe and calm after the ordeal. His father’s version, however, probably had something to do with women. He couldn’t could the number of times he’d been told about good news only to be let down at the prospect of having a lady to court the next day.

Dan crossed his fingers under the table and hoped her name wasn’t something as repulsive as Gertrude.

“We’re going to be having a ball,” his father announced. Dan’s eyes widened in surprise. “It’ll be a great opportunity to meet many young ladies at once—any of whom you could court; only the best will be invited, anyway. It’ll be held next week; outfits have already been ordered for you and Philip.”

His father turned to Phil then. “Of course, feel free to dance with all the ladies as well. If one happens to catch your attention, that’d be fine.” Phil smiled.

“Much obliged,” he answered. Dan, now knowing that Phil had actually _had_  sex before, shuddered lightly at the thought of him doing it again. What if he took one of the ladies back to his room after the ball? Not that there was anything wrong with that… it just made Dan feel weird. Maybe because it was in his own castle. Maybe because he would know that it was happening.

“A ball?” Dan breathed, his mind already swirling at the thought of it. His concussion would definitely be gone by the time it arrived, but he couldn’t deny the fact that it would probably be fun. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d hosted a ball—one that he’d actually wanted to attend, anyway. They had stupid business balls all the time, but Dan had no interest in talking to random men about finances and such. He was a prince, he had no reason to worry about money.

“How does it sound?” his father asked, smiling brightly.

“Great!” Dan answered, except his mind was swirling around one, glaringly large problem. He swallowed and swept the problem from his mind, electing to ignore it for the time being.

They all finished their dinner relatively quickly after that, and after bidding his father goodnight, having only managed to nibble on a few strawberries, Phil helped to lead him back to his rooms. Once there, he invited Phil inside and gave him an intense look so he would know not to refuse—not that Dan thought he actually would. But just in case.

“A ball, huh?” Phil said, after shutting the door behind them. Dan gulped. “Should be fun.”

“Phil,” Dan blurted. “I have a problem.”

“What? The concussion?”

Dan laughed, which hurt his head, but he couldn’t help it. “No.” He swallowed thickly. “I can’t dance.”

Phil was silent for a moment, and so Dan continued. “I always skip out on my dance lessons. They’re just so exceedingly dull—I can never stand them! What am I going to do?” He looked at Phil with desperate, worried eyes, and Phil laughed. Dan’s cheeks flushed.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” Phil said, rolling his eyes at Dan’s blush. Dan couldn’t help it, and he wished Phil wouldn’t point it out either. “I’ll teach you how to dance,” he said boldly.

Dan blanked. “You’ll _what_?”

“I can teach you,” Phil said. “I assure you, I’m a great dancer.” Bloody well go figure. Phil Lester: great at sparring, great at dancing, thankfully not so great at horse riding.

“Okay,” Dan said slowly, contemplating it. “Okay, fine. As soon as my concussion is gone you’ll teach me,” he declared. Phil just nodded, a smile on his face. Dan nodded back.

“I’m going to bed,” he finally said. “I need to go sleep off this concussion and learn to dance before it’s too late.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dan huffed loudly, half-hoping someone would hear his suffering and come and end it. He was _bored_. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night and he had no business being bored, didn’t matter that at this time it would make more sense for him to simply go to sleep—he just _couldn’t_.

All he’d been doing the past few days was sleeping, and it was really starting to grate on his nerves. And when he wasn’t sleeping people were _telling_  him to sleep, as if he had much of a choice with it at all! All he knew was that one moment he’d be hanging out with Phil, the both of them sitting on his bed and sharing an entirely pleasant conversation, and the next Dan would be waking up quite alone wondering when the fuck he’d fallen asleep.

He was tired of sleeping; he’d had enough of it to last a lifetime by now. What he really wanted was to _do_  something. He longed to ride his horse more than anything, funnily enough, but he knew it was impossible for that to happen. Despite him being the prince and normally having complete control over seemingly simple things such as the activities he performed in a day, all the guards and servants were on explicit orders to keep their eyes on him and prevent him from doing anything to worsen his concussion (Dan liked to call this order the fun-ban). Every time he tried to even step out of his room he was being questioned endlessly, and then _followed_ , whether he liked it or not.

So getting some stable-boy to gear up Alamo in the middle of the night was nigh impossible, though he probably could’ve managed it before his cursed concussion. Second on his list of things he most desired to do was read; he missed being able to curl up in his bed with all his covers tangled wonderfully around him and propped up against a mountain of pillows with a book in hand. Now he had to go hunt Phil down to simply enjoy a story, and it wasn’t like he could ask Phil to read out one of his old letters to Dan either, something that easily would’ve cheered him up.

Finally, Dan stood up with a huff and snatched a book off his shelf, clutching it in hand angrily as he stomped to the door. He threw the door open, already knowing what to expect.

“Prince!” Lin greeted in surprise, turning on his heel to look at Dan. “It’s the middle of the night—shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Dan looked at the guard murderously. “I can’t sleep,” he said slowly.

“Er—would you like me to read that to you?” Elaine offered, glancing down at the book in his hand. Dan flushed, embarrassed at the very thought of having someone read to him. It was different with Phil, of course, but that’s because he was _Phil_. To have a guard or servant read to him would be beyond mortifying.

“No!” Dan barked, before stepping quickly past the guards and turning towards Phil’s room.

“Where are you going?” Lin asked hurriedly, forgetting to address Dan as ‘Prince’ in his haste.

“To see Phil,” Dan muttered. “Don’t accompany me,” he said, already knowing that they would disobey his order. His orders had nothing on his father’s orders, and anything that his father said was law. So as Dan started walking towards Phil’s rooms, his guards hastened to follow. Dan could feel the anger radiating off him with every step, until he finally paused in front of the entrance to Phil’s rooms, staring up at his night-shift guards.

“I’m here to see Phil,” Dan announced.

“The prince is sleeping,” the guard responded, looking almost gleeful to deny Dan what he wanted. He could feel his blood practically boiling in anger—he wouldn’t be too surprised if there were smoke pouring out of his ears.

“He won’t be for long,” Dan responded, and then, faster than anyone could react, he spun around and yanked the sword out of Elaine’s weapon belt. She cried out in surprise, and Dan spun around with the sword. Of course, he didn’t plan to attack the guards—he definitely wasn’t skilled enough for that—but all the practicing with Phil before he’d gotten his concussion had really made him more quick on his feet. Funnily enough, he was almost excited to spar with Phil again once his concussion was gone. He was almost sure that it was gone by now, too, as just a few days ago the thought of spinning around so quickly would’ve made his head pound, and now he was doing it with ease.

Both of Phil’s guards drew their swords on Dan, and Lin drew his as well, prepared to defend the prince. Dan ignored them all and began banging the sword against the stone floor. It clanged loudly with each strike, and Dan grinned triumphantly as his surrounding company stared on in confusion, their swords lowering as they geared down from the fight.

“What’re you—” one of Phil’s guards managed, before the door behind him flew open, and Phil looked on at the scene in confusion and annoyance, rubbing his head.

“Dan?” he croaked. “What are you doing?”

“Waking you up,” Dan said easily, and he finally stopped producing the racket and handed Elaine her—slightly dented—sword back. “Let me in.”

Phil blinked once. “Alright.” With that he opened the door wider, stepping back to let Dan in. Then he turned to address his guards. “Er—you can let Dan in whenever he wants, whether he’s had explicit permission from me or not.”

The guards looked furious at their new orders and the fact that they’d have to let Dan in whenever he wanted, but Dan just grinned triumphantly. He twiddled his fingers in farewell at all the guards before slamming the door shut and slumping against it.

A moment passed in silence.

“So why were you so desperate to wake me up?” Phil finally asked, and Dan opened his eyes and looked up at his friend.

“Please read to me,” he answered, thrusting his book towards Phil, who took one look at it and laughed.

“You’re the most stubborn, _rude_ —”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Prince Philip,” Dan threatened, stalking past him and into his bedroom. “Or I’ll have you hanged.” He leaped onto Phil’s bed and burrowed beneath the covers, breathing in the wonderfully familiar scent of _Phil_  and basking in the covers still sleep-warmed by their previous occupant.

Phil nudged him to the side as he approached his own bed, sliding under the covers as well and holding the book opened. He’d not lit any torches, but the moon was shining brightly enough through the curtains to produce light to read by. Dan pressed himself closer to Phil, resting his head against his friend’s shoulder as Phil started to read.

He had a lovely reading voice—his mouth easily shaping and flowing over the words, lilting in the right places and deepening according to any suspenseful parts. He produced different voices for all the characters and read in such a way that Dan was sent into a fit of giggles anytime something mildly amusing happened, despite the fact that he rarely laughed out loud when reading books by himself.

Dan closed his eyes as Phil continued on, his voice spinning fantastic tales. He could feel the vibrations of Phil talking through his shoulder, rumbling gently underneath his cheek. Despite being sick and tired of sleeping, being in this position, comfortable and warm, made it impossible for him to avoid sleep's clutches. He could feel himself being pulled down and did nothing to try to stop it.

—

Dan woke slowly, feeling something soft and warm under his cheek. Disconcertingly, his face rose and fell methodically, making him wonder what exactly he was sleeping on. He managed to pry his eyes open, blinking at the invasion of harsh morning rays seeping through the curtains—curtains that weren't his. He blinked again, focusing instead on something closer to him. Phil's face came into view, eyes open and mouth pulled up in a smirk.

Dan felt his face go red, and he blinked again before burying his face in Phil's chest and groaning. He had to admit, waking up on top of Phil instead of being pushed off the bed by him was definitely better, but it was infinitely more embarrassing.

"The prince awakens!" Phil exclaimed quietly, his voice soft enough to not startle Dan in his recent return to consciousness. Dan could feel him laughing.

"The prince is going back to sleep," Dan replied, stuffing his embarrassment somewhere deep inside him in exchange for continuing in this myriad of comfort.

"Oh no you're not," said a voice that wasn't Phil's. Dan froze, stiffening where he laid on top of his friend. Who exactly was witnessing this and just how many of their fingers would he have to cut off to keep them quiet?

Dan slowly rolled over, opening his eyes and staring at Cecily, who stood with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised.

"I'm not courting anyone today, no matter what you say," he stated before she could say anything. "Especially not with my injury!"

"Actually, the nurse says that your concussion should be gone by now and that you're good to resume your normal activities," Cecily answered dryly.

"I don't want to court girls!" Dan cried, throwing himself back against the bed dramatically.

"That's evident," Cecily muttered. Dan's sucked in a horrified breath and he sat up to glare at the servant. She wasn’t supposed to have seen him sleeping on top of Phil anyway—and he hadn’t even _meant_  to do it, he’d been unconscious at the time! She honestly couldn’t think that it meant anything, right?

"I don't want to court girls _today_ ," he corrected, crossing his arms with a huff and silently wishing for Cecily to come to her untimely death. And how had she gotten in here, anyway? Dan would’ve woken up if Phil had gotten out of the bed to tell the guards to let Cecily in, so it was more likely that they’d just let her in on their own accord. And what was _that_  about? It’d taken Dan much more work to get in here, and he was the prince!

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not here to tell you to court girls,” Cecily said, and Dan perked up considerably.

“Oh,” he said. “Then why are you here?”

“The nurse was under orders to inform you the minute your condition was improved. And as she’s been monitoring your progress these past few days, she’s finally deemed you healthy.”

“And whose orders were those?” Dan demanded.

“Mine,” Phil answered. Dan twisted to stare at him incredulously.

“ _Why_?”

There was only the briefest moment for Phil to smirk before he was launching himself from his bed and retrieving a practice sword from underneath it.

“No!” Dan cried, scrambling off the bed and racing from the room. Phil simply laughed in response and gave chase.

—

Covered in a fresh array of bruises and sweating from head to toe, Dan sunk stiffly into his bath, barely holding in a groan. Those few days out of practice definitely hadn’t helped with his sparring ability, though he did feel like he was perhaps mildly better than he had been before. This time, instead of only attacking him, Phil had also offered up pointers. He’d given advice on Dan’s hold of the sword and the way he swung and defended and sidestepped (after he’d let Dan actually have a sword, of course. At first Dan had only been allowed to evade Phil).

Now he just couldn’t shake the fear that Phil was about to barge into his bathroom again. Unable to relax in the bath, Dan ended up scrubbing himself clean as quickly as he could before drying himself off and getting dressed. He walked into his room, still scrubbing a towel through his wet hair, only to find Phil laying on his bed.

“I’m starting to think you have an obsession with my bed,” Dan announced. Phil did seem to be lounging on it half the time Dan even entered the room. Phil simply snorted.

“I was expecting your bath to take longer than that,” he answered.

“I’m traumatized for life, thanks to you,” Dan said simply. He took another step forward, prepared to collapse onto his bed, when Phil stood abruptly.

“Come on,” he said, jerking his head behind him and taking a step towards the door. Dan just stared at him, confused.

“Where are we going?” he asked, suspicion starting to swirl in his stomach. He couldn’t imagine what he might do if Phil tried to spar with him again after all the practice they’d already done. Nonetheless, Dan followed Phil through his rooms.

“To the ballroom,” Phil answered as they approached the door. “I’m going to teach you how to dance.”

“ _Shh_!” Dan exclaimed suddenly, leaping forward to slap his hand over Phil’s mouth. “Not so loud,” he insisted. “I don’t want anyone to hear you.”

“Ashamed?” Phil questioned with a smirk, and Dan did him the favor of punching him hard in the shoulder. He grinned triumphantly as Phil winced and raised his hand to rub at the sore spot.

“Of course not,” Dan lied. He couldn’t help wishing that he was just a natural at dancing, that he could move through the steps swiftly and easily without having to take the time to learn it. Sadly, he wasn’t a natural, and so lessons were a must. He’d never found it easy to sit through them at a child, and as he’d gotten older dancing lessons had vanished from his day to day schedule and he’d done nothing to counteract this.

Phil just shook his head ruefully before opening the door and stepping out of the room. Dan followed behind him, staring at the two guards suspiciously. Eavesdroppers could be lurking anywhere, after all.

“Where are you going, Prince?” Bentley asked.

“Kitchens,” Dan answered, at the same moment that Phil said “Ballroom.” Dan glared at his friend venomously before clearing his throat and turning to Bentley. “First the kitchens,” he explained, “then the ballroom. Phil wants to know what the room the party is being thrown in will look like.”

“Ah,” Bentley said with a nod, but Alfonzo had a knowing glint in his eye. Dan huffed angrily and shoved Phil roughly into the hallway.

“Goodbye,” he spat, before starting down the hallway in a storm, his shoulders squared. Phil repeated his farewell, though in a much more cheerful manner, and together they descended the stairwell.

Dan was careful to avoid being spotted on his way to the ballroom, slowing before corners and pressing himself against the wall before peering around them to make sure the way was clear. Phil took no such pretenses, however, and happily strolled ahead of Dan without a care, totally blowing his cover.

And it _was_  embarrassing, being the prince and not being able to dance. Even the thought of having to stand so close to women—having to hold them and prance around the room with them—made him queasy. Maybe it was just the thought of his father standing along the sidelines eagerly, hoping that this one—no, _this_  one, would be the one Dan would marry. And how was anyone supposed to choose the right person to marry after just one meeting, anyway? If Dan were to have lunch with a girl and walk with her through the gardens and then decide that she hadn’t been too annoying, his father would start planning their wedding before making plans for a second date.

Perhaps all that was why Dan didn’t have any desire to dance. And he could definitely do without having to be pressed up close to someone, close enough to hear their breath and feel their body heat. Not to mention that the actual _dancing_  part seemed impossible. He couldn’t get it into his head how his feet were supposed to move in a certain way at a certain pace, from one position to the next and _smoothly_.

Just thinking of all this had Dan’s face morphing into a scowl, and he forgot to peer around the next corner before stomping down the hallway, Phil only a few steps ahead of him. He did remember, however, when his eyes fell upon the two little girls leaning against the wall, their heads bent in a whisper and their fingers intertwined.

One girl glanced up and her eyes fell on Phil, seconds before her face shifted into a smile. “Where are you going?” she asked. Dan recognized the girls from that day in the hallway—when the blonde one had bumped into him and they’d both been sent into a panic.

“Hey Isabelle,” Phil greeted genially, before nodding at the blonde one. “Allison. We’re just going to the ballroom.”

Dan glared at the back of Phil’s head and wished that he would burst into flames. It was then that the blonde girl—Allison—looked up an noticed his expression. Her face turned pale and she tugged on Isabelle’s hand, dragging them around the corner and out of sight.

“Now everyone will know,” Dan hissed. “Little kids can’t keep secrets.”

“Are you kidding?” Phil laughed, as Dan finally caught up to him and crossed his arms. Phil set his hand on the small of his back and pushed him the rest of the way towards the ballroom. “We kept so many secrets when we were little—I’m sure your secret is safe with them.”

“I hate you,” Dan muttered. They crossed the threshold of the ballroom, Phil pushing the heavy doors shut behind them, which clanged obnoxiously. Dan jumped at the loud, sudden sound, and nerves infiltrated his body as he realized that he was actually going to be dancing. And with _Phil_. Something about the thought of dancing with Phil left him unsettled—perhaps the fact that by now he was so used to Phil beating the crap out of him with a sword.

“Er—so how do we…” Dan began, before Phil took a sudden step closer and tugged Dan tightly into his arms, their bodies suddenly pressed together. Dan made a sound of surprise, something that sounded oddly like a squeak, and then Phil was instructing him.

“First, you take a step this way,” he said, leading Dan diagonally in one direction. Dan stumbled after him, his face bright red for no viable reason. “And you don’t hold me like that—it’s more like this.” Phil arranged Dan’s hands on his body, so that Dan’s hand was clutching onto his waist, the other holding his hand. Phil’s fingers were longer and skinnier than his, paler too. His fingertips felt cold in Dan’s hand, pressed against his skin and slowly leeching the heat out of it.

“Hold me closer, Dan,” Phil said. “Don’t be shy; keep a firm grip.” Dan nodded without saying anything, afraid that if he opened his mouth the only thing that would come out would be a mortified scream.

And then they were off, Phil instructing him where to put his foot and when and how. He adjusted Dan’s grip every two seconds and pulled them closer at every conceivable time. And while Phil’s fingers felt cold against his, his body felt wonderfully warm, pressed completely up against Dan time and time again as they spun, as they slid their feet and rocked into place and turned. Phil’s quiet instructions were placed directly into his ear, his warm breath washing over Dan with every word and making him shiver in contrast.

“I think you’re starting to get it,” Phil said some time later, as Dan had finally started to lead properly, the intricate moves of the dance seemingly cemented in his mind.

“Thanks,” Dan muttered. He could smell Phil. He smelled almost citrusy—like lemons and _clean_. Dan longed to bury his nose in Phil’s chest and just _inhale_ , though he knew that doing so would be wildly inappropriate. It didn’t stop the thought from entering his mind, however.

Dan swallowed thickly. He was thinking weird thoughts and he knew it. It must’ve been the proximity or something, or perhaps some sort of left over effect from the concussion. As soon as he got away he’d be fine—he’d be able to start thinking straight again.

“D’you think we could take a break?” Dan finally asked, using the excuse that he was starting to feel dizzy. He just needed to get away from Phil, needed to breathe fresh, normal air and feel the actual temperature of the room.

Unfortunately for him, Phil just frowned. “You can’t have a break, Dan—you’ll be expected to dance all night. If you’re tired already we’ll have to work up your stamina.” And so they kept dancing. And dancing. And dancing.

They danced until Dan’s feet ached and his wariness of being so close to Phil melted into something else. He was almost starting to enjoy it; he liked the feel of Phil’s body against his, the way they stepped together and slid, the way Phil’s fingers squeezed his when he was about to misstep. He liked Phil’s light grip on his side, and the way he thoughtlessly brushed his hand over Dan’s back when he made them pause to explain something else.

Most intense was the eye contact. For the majority of their dancing they were silent, expressionless, but they made eye contact the entire time. Dan had never stared into anyone’s eyes for so long. Phil’s eyes really were beautiful, a blend of colors, blue and green and almost yellow.

He was afraid that Phil could see everything he was thinking in his own eyes. That he would know Dan was, almost perversely, enjoying this. Maybe it was just some sort of best friend thing. Surely everyone would enjoy being able to dance with the person they were closest to? It definitely wasn’t whatever Cecily had been insinuating that morning, that was for sure. Because Dan was very much into girls—he just hadn’t found the right one yet.

 

—

Dan sighed as he filled up what felt like the thousandth cup of punch. Girls keep assailing him, coming to him and asking for dances or drinks or sometimes even just conversation. He couldn’t say no, obviously—this entire event was centered around the fact that he was supposed to dance with all the ladies and hopefully fall in love with one, or at least decide he liked her.

He could finally say that he had mastered dancing, after all those grueling days of practice. He was exhausted though, and his muscles hurt as much as his feet did, sore after being stood and danced on for so long. Every morning Phil insisted on sparring with him, and while Dan always complained loudly, he was actually starting to enjoy it. And, dare he say it, Dan was even starting to think that he was getting better. He could hold a sword and defend himself from Phil, and now he only attacked when he saw an opening, he didn’t just swing wildly and hope for the best. He could tell Phil was enjoying their sparring more now as well, as it wasn’t as easy for him to beat Dan. Sometimes they were at it for more than an hour, having to be interrupted by some servant or other, concerned for their muscles.

Dan had insisted that amongst all this dancing and sparring, they should get to do something that Dan actually _liked_. And so they’d gone riding again, this time in a completely secure field. Dan had even taught Phil how to jump over small hurdles, and how to fall from his horse properly. Of course, falling properly wasn’t always an option, which was evident after Dan’s concussion.

And it was strange, dancing with ladies after being so used to dancing with Phil. They felt different when he held them, and he purposely held them a little further away. Dancing felt so personal and intimate; he couldn’t believe people would dance with just anyone.

All the girls giggled in his ear, astonished that they were actually dancing with the prince, and he could do nothing besides spin them around and hope that the song would end soon. And he couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to dance with Phil here—in front of everybody. He could imagine the uproar, everyone astonished that the prince was dancing not with the ladies, here for the explicit purpose of him finding a girl to marry, but with another prince.

Phil was warmer than them. And he smelt better too; soft and warm and clean, while all the girls smelled strongly of too much perfume: sickly sweet flowers and overwhelming amber, as if anyone wanted their nose to burn off just being in their proximity. He choked on the air around them, and he tried to breathe through his mouth without having anyone notice.

After handing the punch to the latest woman assaulting him, he smiled at her and excused himself. He was just looking for a reprieve. Sure, Phil had said that he was expected to dance all night long, but Dan just couldn’t do it, and not because he was too tired. All that sparring and dancing really had helped his stamina, he just hated dancing with all these women.

Careful to make sure that no one spotted him, Dan made his way around the dance floor with an air of greeting women and making conversation, but really he just ducked behind a pillar when he finally made it to the edge of the ballroom. He leaned against the cold marble, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, letting himself take a deep breath. Balls really were exhausting, and they weren’t much fun either. He’d barely seen Phil throughout the whole thing, too busy talking and dancing and pouring punch for stupid women.

The occasional glances he’d gotten of Phil had revealed the other man to be standing next to some pretty girl, deep in conversation and looking handsome. Dan thought of Phil taking some girl back to his room tonight and his cheeks heated. If Phil slept with some girl while he was in Dan’s castle how was Dan ever going to look him in the eyes again?

“…know what you mean,” someone laughed, directly on the other side of the pillar. Dan froze, recognizing the voice. It was the night cook—what’s her face!

“Oh Charlotte, look over there!” Cecily’s voice said gleefully. Dan nodded as he remembered the night cook’s name. Charlotte.

“He’s been at it all night—looks quite experienced to me.”

“He clearly knows what he’s doing,” Cecily responded, and Charlotte hummed.

“Think they’ll end the night together?”

“Oh I don’t know, he’s talked to so many women tonight, I’m sure it could be any of them.”

“And where’s our prince?” Charlotte said, and Dan’s eyes widened realizing who they were talking about—Phil.

“Probably hiding,” Cecily laughed, and Dan flushed at the accusation. He was doing no such thing! He was just… resting. Behind a pillar. Out of view.

“Now why would he do that?” Charlotte said, though her voice suggest she already had an answer. Cecily giggled.

“Have you seen his face every time he finishes dancing with a lady? He looks positively sick.” Dan was going to rip Cecily’s hair out of her head and string her from the ceiling with it.

“Poor Dan,” Charlotte sighed, and Dan bristled. _Dan_? She called him _Dan_  behind his back?! “I don’t think he even realizes why he hates them so much.”

“And why would that be?” Cecily asked quietly, though she sounded like she had an idea. Dan couldn’t believe he was being gossiped about. He was the _prince_! He could have them fired! Or executed!

“Well he’s obviously in love with Phil,” Charlotte said easily, and Dan froze in indignation. Something in his stomach wriggled violently—he wasn’t sure he was breathing. He _was not_ —he _didn’t_ …. _he wasn’t_!

“I’m not gay!” he said, and Cecily stopped saying whatever it was she was saying. Dan stomped around the pillar and glared at the two of them, but inside he felt something more akin to fear. These two… they were ridiculous! They were just having dumb girl thoughts like all the other girls he courted! They’d gotten this weird, wretched idea in their heads and it was their own fault.

They both looked terrified, not to mention entirely embarrassed about having been caught gossiping about the prince by the prince himself. They were pale, their eyes wide, but Charlotte got her composure first.

“Dan—”

Dan growled. “Don’t call me _Dan_ ,” he snapped. “And don’t go spreading those… those _ideas_  around!”

He stood their for a second, his heart trying to escape from his chest and breathing much too heavily for not having danced in the last ten minutes. A hand suddenly fell on his shoulder and Dan jumped, sucking in a shocked breath and twisting to see who was touching him.

“These aren’t the ladies you’re supposed to be wooing, Dan,” Phil said with a smile. First, Dan’s eyes widened in surprise, and his mind seemed to replay Charlotte and Cecily’s conversation at hyper speed, and then he glared at his friend.

“I know that!” he snapped.

Phil just shrugged, used to his mood swings. “Just making sure you knew. I _did_  promise your father I’d help you find the perfect woman, after all.” Dan wanted to hiss at him. He hated courting women! And that wasn’t because he was… gay. It was because he was young and still full of life and he didn’t want to be tied down for the rest of forever and expected to have _children_  and be married and in love!

Out of the corner of his eye, Dan thought he saw Charlotte and Cecily share a glance. He was furious at them—he wanted to throw them into the dungeons and leave them there to rot. But he couldn’t do so with Phil here, as Phil would ask why he was doing such a thing, and Dan couldn’t let him hear the horrible rumors his servants were spreading.

Finally, Dan just shook Phil off and stepped away from him. “I don’t need your help,” he insisted. “I’m doing just fine on my own.” And with that he stalked away, introduced himself to a random woman, and held her closer than he’d held any other all night. She was ridiculously curvy, and she had no shame about pressing herself up against him, letting him feel every dip and curve of her.

Dan wanted to throw up. And he wanted to push her aside and run to his room and bury himself under his comforter. Instead he pulled her even closer. Instead he smelled her perfume and told himself it was lovely. Instead he let her manicured nails trail over his chest, let her run one over his nipple, let her bring it lower and lower. And he let her do whatever she wanted for the entirety of the song—after which he went directly to the drinks table, ignored the punch, and downed three shots of something that burned the whole way down. And then he had another two, for good measure.

Dancing with girls was easier after that. Though he was pretty sure that his dancing became sloppier, and their feet kept ending up underneath his, for some reason.

When the night finally wound to a close, Dan retired to his room without looking around for Phil. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know if Phil was going to be alone tonight.

Instead he walked to his room as quickly as he could, and he avoided eye contact with Lin and Elaine as he squeezed past them, refusing to answer them when they asked how his night had gone. And once in his room, he pulled out the mini whiskey bottles he’d managed to sneak into his coat pockets, and with that he pulled out a pen and paper and started drinking and writing.

He was pretty sure that the words he was writing were nonsense—pretty sure that he mentioned Phil and Cecily and Charlotte and maybe the word “gay” but definitely the word “NOT”. And once he was finished he crumpled it into a ball as small as he could and shoved it under his bed, hoping he’d never see it again. And then he absolutely refused to cry, instead just sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, telling himself that he absolutely wouldn’t.

And later, when he was running to the bathroom and bending over the toilet to eject whatever alcohol he’d managed to consume, he let himself believe that he was crying because it hurt so badly. And when Cecily ventured into his rooms and found him like that, head resting on the toilet seat and smelling of vomit, tear tracks dried on his cheek, he screamed at her and made her leave, threatening to have her hanged if she didn’t get out.

Finally, Dan climbed into his bed sometime late in the night, pulling his covers tightly around him and hoping that he would just go to sleep and forget to wake up again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends! this is just a random little excerpt that's in cecily's pov. it takes place between this last chapter and the next, and it's not mandatory to read if you're not into a little bit of random/extra content. it's just a little bit of insight into the servants' lives and a lot a bit of insight to how dan and phil are acting after what happened last chapter >:)
> 
> also: to all the people leaving comments/sending message about having gone through something similar to dan, i really feel for you and i hope you're okay now. i hope you can find a bit of solace in having a character to relate to.
> 
> all that said, i'd like to thank you all for reading this so far and (hopefully) enjoying it! i read each of your comments and really appreciate them even if i don't respond to them all!!
> 
> finally, i update every saturday if you don't know that already, this is just a little random thing in between - i thought it might be fun. anyway, enjoy!

"Yes, Prince Philip sure has been worried about Prince Daniel," Cecily said loudly to Alfonzo, who nodded solemnly.

"Why, of course," he said stiffly, his voice projected louder than usual as well. "I'm sure he is _quite upset_  that his friend has refused to see him—or leave his room—for two days."

The Prince was well-known for eavesdropping, and Cecily could only hope that he was doing so now. The foreign Prince had already approached Cecily on two different occasions and demanded to know what was wrong with Dan.

"He is under the weather," Cecily had lied, instructed to do so from the Prince himself. He'd taken the time give her such commands in between glaring at her and demanding she remove herself from his rooms at the threat of her life. She really did feel guilty for gossiping about him with Charlotte, but she really hadn't thought that he hadn't already _realized_  what his preferences were. She'd thought he was just as aware as she was that he preferred men, and was only going through the steps of courting women in order to do his duties.

Of course, she'd realized how wrong she was once Dan had revealed himself from behind the pillar. He'd looked just as terrified as he had furious, and she'd felt queasy realizing what she’d done to him, what turmoil he was likely going through.

"Then let me see him," Phil had insisted. "I'll bring soup."

“Sorry,” Cecily had replied. “No one is to be allowed in.”

Now, they waited to see if Dan would burst out of the room and declare that he’d said no such thing about refusing to see Phil and that he would have all their heads for talking about him. Instead, the silence continued. Cecily was starting to wonder if he was even bothering to eavesdrop at all.

It’d been strange after Phil had left all those years ago, watching the Prince’s mood shift as he turned sullen and recluse. Especially as she had clear memories of how happy he’d been with Phil. She could still remember the time they’d asked her to play tag with them. Well, Phil had asked, Prince Daniel had stood slightly behind him and stared off to the side as if he didn’t care whether she agreed to play with them or not. In the end, she had agreed, and Dan had immediately smirked wickedly, before he’d shoved Phil and yelled, “You’re it!”

That day had been filled with the Prince giggling and shrieking as he ran away from his friend and yelling at him whenever it was his turn to give chase. It was a side of Dan that Cecily had seen glimpses of since Phil’s return. Now, she feared she might never see it again, and it was all her fault.

“I’m going in,” she announced, and Bentley gave her a sad look.

“But I like you _alive_ ,” he said.

“The Prince won’t kill me,” she said confidently, although she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Perhaps we should just leave him alone,” Alfonzo said sadly, and Cecily huffed. They didn’t know why the Prince was upset, and they especially didn’t know that it was because of her. She had to do something to fix it.

“If I’m not back in ten minutes…”

“Send for your body?”

“Yes.”

With that, Cecily slipped into the room, glancing around quickly and confirming, sadly, that the Prince hadn’t been eavesdropping. She tip-toed through the rooms, entirely expecting to find the Prince laying in a ball on his bed again. She was wrong. She paused in the doorway, staring at him with wide eyes as he wrote furiously, several pages of similarly abused papers by his side.

As she watched, he reached the end of one paper, slid it to the side, and grabbed another. She realized with a shock that there were tears trailing down his cheeks, and he suddenly let out a sob before wiping his arm roughly across his face. He sniffed loudly, none of these proceedings doing anything to disrupt his rapid writing pace.

It was painfully obvious that this wasn't something Cecily was supposed to be seeing. It was a private moment and she was an intruder, but more than anything it made her realize that the Prince needed his friend. She could understand why that might not work out though, seeing as the reason Dan was even in this state was because he'd realized he was in love with him. Despite Phil being probably the only person that Dan could truly depend on, that he could trust, he would only cause more pain right now.

"Prince Daniel," Cecily said quietly. The prince froze, his entire body ceasing movement, his hand stopping mid sentence.

"Get out," he said, his voice scarily soft.

"I'm sorry," Cecily said quickly. "Me and Charlotte—we had no business saying those things about you. But that doesn't mean it's not okay to be—"

"Get _out_ ," he hissed, finally turning to look at her. His eyes were red-rimmed and purple underneath. If Cecily had to guess she'd say that he'd been writing all night long.

“Prince--"

"Cecily," he interrupted, standing slowly from his chair and turning to face her. Even in his destroyed, distraught looking state, he radiated power and dignity. He looked like he could destroy her with the blink of an eye, if he so desired. "I will have you sliced into a thousand tiny little pieces if you don't get out of my sight _immediately_."

"It's not healthy, Your Highness," Cecily said quickly, already backing towards the door. "At least eat something!"

With a roar, the Prince bounded towards her, hands outstretched, and Cecily darted out of the way and sprinted back the way she'd come, slipping through the door and slamming it behind her. The Prince showed no signs of following her out of his rooms, but when she pressed her ear against the door she could hear muffled sobs.

"It didn't go well?" Alfonzo muttered sadly. Cecily just shook her head.

"Not at all."

\--

Cecily squealed as she was tugged into an alcove. Currently she was trying to do a few quick chores around the castle before she helped Charlotte prepare the kitchens for her night shift. That wasn't technically part of Cecily's work, and she definitely wasn’t getting paid for it, but she enjoyed spending time with Charlotte. They'd become good friends ever since she'd become the Prince's maidservant, and she enjoyed seeing the kids running around the kitchen and playing under the disguise of helping (though only one of them actually belonged to Charlotte).

"Sorry," Prince Philip said, and Cecily backed away from him to the other side of the alcove.

"Prince Philip," she acknowledged.

"Phil," he corrected. Cecily nodded.

"What can I do for you?"

"Let me into Dan's rooms," he begged.

"I can't do that," she said sadly.

"Then tell me if he comes out. Please, I need to see him."

Cecily bit her lip, but she finally nodded. He would leave his rooms eventually, and she technically wouldn't be breaking any rules by alerting Phil. Her only instructions were to not let anyone _in_. And Cecily knew that he would come out sooner or later.

Time has proven that he could live without Phil, though he clearly didn't like it; what he couldn't live without was Alamo.

"Okay," she said, and Phil breathed a relieved sigh, letting his head hang.

"Thank you."

\--

It happened in the early morning. She'd asked Bentley and Alfonzo to alert her if Dan happened to venture out of his rooms, and venture out he did. As soon as he was out of view Bentley was finding Cecily, and from there she was running to Phil's rooms.

The guards let her in with nothing other than a raised eyebrow, and then she was knocking politely on his door before bursting into his room, panting and red-faced. She was desperate, after all, to fix her blunder, to remedy what she’d done to Dan. And sure, it might hurt to be in the presence of the one you love, especially when you weren’t sure if it would be reciprocated or if it was even _allowed_ , but on the other hand, he’d be with the one he _loved_.

Cecily had no clue what Phil felt like, whether he had feelings for Dan or even for men at all. But she did know that he was probably the kindest person she’d ever met, and even if he didn’t feel for Dan the same way, he wouldn’t treat her Prince any different for it; he definitely wouldn’t hate him for it.

“Prince!” Cecily gasped, catching her breath as Phil jerked awake. “Prince Daniel has gone out riding! If you hurry you might catch him!”

With that, Phil was tumbling out of bed and groggily thanking her as he disappeared into his closet, reappearing moments later in a haphazardly put together outfit. With that he was sprinting out of his rooms, his guards yelling out in surprise as he rushed past them.

Cecily finally let herself breathe a sigh of relief, letting herself believe that everything would be okay. After all, how could things not be, when Prince Daniel had Phil?


	7. Chapter 7

_Death would be nice_ , Dan wrote. Thought. _Preferable_ , he corrected, scratching his pen through "nice". Yes, death would be preferable to the endless torment swirling around in his head.

Instead of doing anything rash, or possibly productive, Dan wrote. It was the only thing he really felt like he could do at the moment—the only thing that felt normal. There was no chance in hell Phil was ever going to get these letters though, but it didn't matter. He just needed to get his thoughts out.

He'd refused to leave his room in the days after the ball, having no desire to see or interact with anyone after what had transpired. After what he'd realized...

He'd needed to be alone, needed to be able to _think_. And he'd done that by writing; he wrote letter after letter full of his thoughts and desires, letters that he'd hidden or burned, depending on how much he'd talked about.

And after two days of solid writing, sleeping, life-dreading, and screaming (in relation to whenever Cecily intruded in his room), he'd come to a decision.

He wasn't gay.

He didn't care what the servants said, sometimes you just had to realize when other people were blatantly wrong, as Cecily and Charlotte were. And he'd only had such a major freak-out over the whole thing because he'd never heard the word "gay" in relation with himself before—it would throw anyone in a loop!

And so, confident that he never was nor would be gay, he stood up. The time for writing and crying was over; he had things to do. And he wasn't in love with Phil either. The thought was preposterous! It was hilarious, actually. Dan laughed just thinking about the idea of him being in love with Phil! He loved him, sure, as a brother maybe. As a best friend. But that was the only love lost for Phil, nothing more.

Dan dressed in his riding leathers and refused to look in the mirror before leaving his room. He was aware that his minor break down may have had slightly negative effects on his appearance and he didn't wish to be discouraged from his plans of riding Alamo. He'd missed his horse over the past few days of... radical thinking. But now, seeing as he was perfectly fine (and even more perfectly straight) he was ready to go riding.

"Prince!" Alfonzo exclaimed, as Dan pulled the door open and stepped out of his rooms. Dan picked an invisible piece of lint off his shoulder before turning to look at the guard.

"Alfonzo," he greeted with a small nod. "I am done feeling under the weather. In fact, I now feel over the weather, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going riding." He spared a second nod for the second guard, who was looking at him with wide eyes, before turning and stalking down the corridor, descending the stairs as quickly as he dared without seeming hurried. He had almost made it all the way to the front entrance of the castle before he was noticed.

"Prince Daniel!" someone called from behind him. He paused before turning around, carefully keeping his face impassive as he recognized who it was. Charlotte. He guessed it made sense for her to still be around in the early morning, likely cleaning up from her shift and possibly helping out for the initial rush of breakfast.

"Head Cook," Dan greeted, keeping his gaze steady somewhere around her left ear. She cleared her throat.

"About the ball..."

Dan interrupted her with a laugh. It was the kind of laugh he used with most of the girls he courted, an obviously fake, short kind of laugh. Though maybe he'd stop using it with them; it was probably time to start getting serious about courting and finding the perfect wife, there was no more time to fool around. "I prefer not to talk about the ball, Cook," he responded. "It seems as though the drinks got to me, and even thinking about that night makes my head start pounding again. Now, if you'll excuse me." With that, Dan turned around again, his riding shoes clicking loudly on the stone floor.

“Prince--" Charlotte tried again.

"No time!" Dan called behind himself, not bothering to turn his head. "My horse awaits."

With that Dan was hurrying down the front castle steps, having successfully avoided an awkward conversation. And it would be awkward, seeing as that woman had some odd preconceptions about him. Perhaps he should've let her talk to him, if only to set her straight... But it was too much work, anyway, and Dan had things to do. Not to mention that he was the prince, he most certainly should never have to explain himself.

Soon enough, Dan was leaning against the wooden wall of the stables, watching with bored interest as a stable boy saddled his horse.

"Who's a good horse?" Dan said quietly, stepping forward to pat the stallion. His snout was soft, and Dan gently rubbed his knuckle over the fur, smiling as Alamo snorted, his hot breath spilling over Dan's palm.

"You are!" exclaimed a voice in his ear. Dan gasped, his heart exploding in his chest as he stumbled backwards, directly into a firm body. He spun around and shoved Phil roughly, clutching his heart moments afterward.

"You bastard!" he whispered, his heart still thundering painfully. "Oh my God, you suck."

" _I_  suck?" Phil demanded. "You're the one who refused to see me for two days!"

Dan started to flush before he mentally reassured himself that he had had good reason, and was now greater informed because of it. And it was because of him being thus informed that he had absolutely no reason to feel flustered or embarrassed around his friend, had no reason for his heart to _still_  not be settling down.

"I was quite ill," Dan said primly, before spinning around to address the servant. "Is my horse prepared?"

"Yes, Your Highness," the boy said quickly, before backing out of the stall and disappearing into another one.

"Wait, hold on," Phil protested, grabbing onto Dan's arm. Dan flinched, wrenching his arm away, before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Er—what?"

"I haven't seen you in two days! The first thing you plan to do is ride your horse?"

"Alamo hasn't seen me in two days either," Dan said with a sniff, turning away from his friend again to mount Alamo.

"You could have at least invited me," Phil pouted, before politely asking the stable boy to prepare him a horse as well.

"One-track mind," Dan said with a shrug. "Mind opening that for me?" He indicated the wooden door, currently keeping him and Alamo from leaving.

Phil scoffed. "What, you're not even gonna wait for me?"

Dan swallowed thickly, trying to think of a good excuse. He really had planned to just come out and ride alone, before returning to his room to be—well—alone. Not that he had any reason to be avoiding Phil, or anything.

"Of course I'll wait for you," Dan said finally, unable to think of an excuse. Phil just laughed.

"Your illness must've addled your brain," he said, before disappearing into another stall to mount his horse. "I'll be happy to have my Dan back," he added.

His Dan.

Dan cleared his throat. "Yes, I'll admit I'm still feeling a tad bit sick. Please forgive any absent mindedness on my part.”

With that, the stable boy was opening the wooden gates and Dan and Phil were trotting out of the stalls. Dan glanced at Phil, which proved to be a mistake. He must've somehow known Dan was going riding, as he was dressed appropriately in his own riding leathers. They were tight on his body and defined him in all the right places—if you were into that kind of thing.

Shaking his head, Dan faced forward and cleared his throat. "Thought we might go for a hard ride today," he said, and Phil groaned.

"You know I always have trouble keeping up."

Of course he knew. Smirking triumphantly, Dan kicked Alamo into action and galloped off, bending low over his horse and feeling the wind tousle his hair roughly (in his haste he'd forgotten a helmet, but he didn't plan to fall off today anyway). He pressed his horse hard, easily outpacing Phil and leaving him in his dust, which allowed him to relax minimally.

He rode until both he and his horse were lathered in sweat, performing harsh jumps as often as he could manage. Eventually though, he had to admit that it truly was time to finish, especially since his stomach felt painfully empty, his head throbbing as he rode. He couldn't quite remember the last time he'd eaten.

With a signal to Phil that he was heading back to the stables, Dan pulled Alamo around and instructed for him to be pampered accordingly. "You're a wonderful horse," he praised, standing in front of him once more as Phil came trotting through the stables, breathing heavily.

"I swear, I'll never understand how you make that look easy." Dan reveled quietly in the praise, but he pushed it aside with a clear of his throat.

"Natural talent," he said with a shrug.

Together, they returned to the castle, though Dan was sure to keep a certain amount of distance between them at all times. He wasn't interested in having their arms accidentally brushing, especially if Cecily and Charlotte were wandering about the castle—lord knows what they would think of him _touching_  Phil.

"Good afternoon, Prince," Bentley greeted as he and Phil came to a stop in front of his rooms. He hadn't invited Phil, but then, he never had before. And he'd never had a problem with it either. Dan sighed heavily. “You're back earlier than I expected.”

"Unfortunately."

"You're looking well," Alfonzo added, likely because the wind and exercise had put a flush in his cheeks that two days of moping around had managed to take away.

"On the contrary," Phil interjected. “He says he’s still feeling a tad bit ill."

"Oh really?" Alfonzo said inquisitively, and Dan shifted uneasily. "This morning you said you were feeling 'over the weather', Prince.”

“Weather’s a bad judge of health,” Dan informed, before stepping past the guards and into his rooms. "Send for lunch!"

He was thankful that he’d decided to hide all the evidence of his breakdown before leaving his rooms this morning, seeing as it would’ve been hard to explain to Phil the stacks of paper covered in frantic writing. Then again, he hadn’t expected to have company at the end of the day either, so it wouldn’t have been his fault.

With the door shut behind them, Dan made his way further into his rooms, unsure of what to do or what to even say. For the first time he felt completely unsure and awkward in Phil’s presence. What did they normally talk about? What did they normally _do_?

Suddenly, Dan was being yanked backwards, his back colliding with Phil’s chest as Phil wrapped his arms around him. He squeaked in surprise, his face flushing red at the sudden mass of contact and warmth.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, although his voice came out in a whisper.

“You seem tense,” Phil said simply, letting his chin rest on Dan’s shoulder as he hugged him tighter, breathing softly. “I think I’ll give you a massage.”

“No need for that!” Dan protested immediately, trying to pull away from Phil. His grip was too strong, and Dan stayed reluctantly in his arms, his breathing getting more and more unsteady with the proximity. Which didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense, not when compared to the conclusion he’d came to after those two days. He wasn’t gay! He didn’t love Phil! So why was he reacting like this?

“I give the best massages, you’ll see,” Phil responded, having apparently ignored Dan’s refusal. “Take off your clothes.”

“W-What?” Dan exclaimed, and Phil turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Well I can’t give you a massage through riding leathers, can I?” he said with a laugh. When Dan made no move to get undressed, Phil took a step forward and reached for the ties along Dan’s middle, pulling at one and making it fall open. Dan swatted his hand away.

“I can do that,” he muttered, taking a step back. God, what was he getting himself into? Phil disappeared into his bathroom, emerging with a handful of scented lotions and oils (and he wasn’t supposed to know Dan used those—no one was), while Dan tugged off his shirt.

Avoiding looking at Phil, he stripped off his trousers as well, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room as Phil lined up the bottles on Dan’s bedside table. “Well, lay down!” he insisted, having glanced over his shoulder and seen Dan standing there.

Dan cleared his throat uncomfortably and made his way to the bed, where he then laid down on his stomach. He could do this. He could stomach getting a massage from his best friend.

Phil suddenly climbed over him, straddling his waist and sitting on top of him to get the best leverage. Dan buried his face in his pillows and clenched his eyes shut. He was going to have another breakdown!

Though he didn’t want to appreciate it, he couldn’t deny how good it felt when Phil started massaging his shoulders, his hands covered in honey-scented oil—it was Dan’s favorite, the sweet honey scent always having a calming effect on him, though he doubted Phil knew that. His fingers deftly worked out the knots in Dan’s shoulders, and Dan had to resist groaning at how wonderful it all felt. His hands rubbed all the tension out of Dan’s body easily and efficiently, almost making him wonder why he hadn’t tried it before.

Everything was going smoothly until Phil started massaging his neck, and Dan tensed. Phil’s fingers were light but firm on his skin, moving up and down over his neck in such a way that left Dan breathless. What was wrong with him? And as Phil’s fingernails scratched gently over his neck, up into his hair, Dan found himself unable to breath properly.

“So,” Phil said suddenly, breaking the quiet atmosphere. His hands continued to work as he talked. “You never asked me how I did at the ball.”

“…How you did?”

“You know. With the ladies.”

Dan tensed, and as if sensing this, Phil’s fingers moved from where they’d been massaging his shoulders back onto his neck. Dan really had to concentrate on his breathing when he did this, afraid he’d start panting and blow his cover. And he had figured out what exactly this was doing to him—it was hard not to, with the evidence poking uncomfortable into the mattress beneath him.

“Oh,” Dan whispered, and the sound came out slightly breathy. “Well then,” he said, already dreading the answer, even though he shouldn’t be. “How did you do?”

Phil laughed. “I didn’t.”

Dan breathed a small sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized just how anxious he was to hear Phil’s answer until he’d heard it. He was maybe going to have to rethink his sexuality. But God, he didn’t want this. A prince couldn’t be gay. A prince couldn’t have some stupid crush on another prince! He had duties he was supposed to attend to; he had _responsibilities_. And what would his father say if he found out?

“How come?” Dan said finally, realizing he was probably expected to continue the conversation.

“It was just like you said,” Phil answered. “They’re _horrible_.”

Dan relaxed as Phil’s hands moved back down to his shoulders, and from there to his lower back. Well, whether he was gay or not, he was just going to have to ignore it. He had ladies to court, future children to bear. He couldn’t just throw away the whole life he had set out for him because of some mild inconvenience. And Phil would never find out, and it would all be okay.

“Erm—P-Prince Daniel?” Cecily’s voice interrupted nervously. Dan’s entire body froze. God dammit. Why did _she_  have to find him like _this_? All… naked and covered in oil! And Phil was sitting on top of him for fuck’s sake! There was no way he was going to be able to keep her from thinking he was gay at this rate.

“If it's our lunch, you can leave it on the table.” His voice came out flat and deathly quiet.

“It's not that, Prince. Your father requests your audience.”

“Very well,” Dan said shortly. “Leave me be.”

With that, Cecily thankfully disappeared from the room, and Phil set about rubbing the oil off him with a warm, wet towel.  
“Shame,” Phil said quietly. “I was planning on massaging your legs next.”

“Oh well!” Dan said hurriedly, standing as soon as Phil had slid off him and escaping directly into his closet, all without facing him. “Maybe next time.” And then he was hurrying out of his rooms and sending a silent thank you to his father.

He made his way to the throne room alone, and once there he greeted his father with a bow of his head before stopping before him.

“Why did you call for me, Father?”

“I wish to discuss the ball,” his father said, and Dan nodded. He could've seen this coming. “I hear that you and one lady got along well.”

“Oh really?” Dan said, struggling to come up with who that might be.

“Yes, Christina Vander. You remember her?”

“Of course,” Dan lied. He didn’t think he could remember the name of a single girl he’d danced with that entire night. “What about her?”

“I’ve invited her to be courted tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully this one will yield different results than usual,” his father said a bit dryly.

“I would expect so,” Dan said stiffly. “Is that all?”

“Not quite,” his father answered. Dan startled, having already started to turn away. His father almost always said yes when Dan asked that, it was just his regular way of excusing himself. “See to it that you keep a special eye on Phil.”

Dan did everything in his willpower to keep himself from blushing. He was pretty sure he already _was_  keeping a special eye on Phil, not that he wanted to be doing so. “Er—what?”

“I’m just… not entirely sure that I trust him,” his father admitted.

“ _What_?”

“It’s only a possibility. He’s just alone with you a lot, and already you’ve been injured since he’s arrived.”

“Because of _foxes_ ,” Dan argued.

“Because of a hole in a fence that’s never had a hole in it before.”

“Are you suggesting that Phil might be trying to kill me?” Dan scoffed. His father said nothing. “That’s ridiculous!” Dan cried. “I trust Phil with my life.”

“I know. But perhaps you should not,” his father suggested. “I’m only asking for you to be careful. I’ve already alerted your guards to be extra wary from now on.”

Dan groaned loudly. “This is bullshit,” he muttered, daring to curse in front of his father. There was no reaction from the king, so Dan just glared instead. “Phil would never hurt me.”

“I’ll believe it when I have reason to.”

Without excusing himself, Dan turned and stomped out of the throne room, grumbling angrily under his breath. Unsure what else to do, he stormed through the castle and into the kitchens, where he ignored all the servants that stopped what they were doing to openly stare at him. Dan grabbed several random assortments of food, occasionally snatching them directly off the platters the servants were stacking them onto, before he retreated from the kitchen and settled on the thick windowsill across from it.

He dug into whatever food he’d managed to retrieve, barely tasting it in his anger. It was absolutely uncalled for for his father to think that Phil would ever mean him any harm. And to think that what happened with the foxes could possibly be on purpose! What made Dan angrier than anything else was the fact that his guards had been informed. He didn’t want them acting suspicious of Phil, didn’t want them silently examining him before letting him into Dan’s rooms, making sure he wasn’t concealing weapons.

Finally, his anger having simmered slightly, Dan decided to return to his rooms. Perhaps he would spend the night with Phil and further prove to his father that his friend was harmless. God, they’d been alone together so many times before! If he’d wanted Dan dead, Dan would _be_  dead.

His anger still flowing mulishly through his veins, Dan began to stomp up the steps, muttering to himself about incompetent kings and stupid girls (for the thought that he’d have to court a lady tomorrow had not slipped his mind either). Suddenly, as Dan’s foot came down hard on a stair, he slid and his body went flying. The stair was covered in some sort of slick substance—perhaps oil?—and Dan was tumbling backwards, his footing lost and his arms flying out to catch him. Miraculously, he actually managed to grab onto the banister, but the rest of his body still flew backwards, making his arm wrench painfully behind him as he struggled to remain upright.

After assuring that he was alive, he could only thank the lord that his father hadn’t been around to witness that. After all, he’d probably lecture Dan about it being Phil trying to kill him.

Dan had just managed to take a step over the slick substance before he paused, a tickling suspicion announcing itself in the back of his mind. It couldn’t be…

Feeling sick with himself even as he did it, Dan ducked closer to the stairs. He just had to be sure…

Dan inhaled deeply, breathing in the sweet scent of honey. His mouth went dry.


	8. Chapter 8

Dan stood there, his hands uncomfortably sweaty, his legs shaking slightly underneath him, before he told himself to get a grip. If he decided to become paranoid after an incident like this then he was just as bad as his father. There were probably hundreds of that exact bottle of honey-oil in every bedroom of the castle. And, seeing as the stairwell was so close to the kitchen, wouldn't it make more sense for the oil to be cooking oil—assuming that the slippery step was on purpose? The fact that it _wasn't_  cooking oil made it more likely to have been an accident.

Gaining surety with the more thought he put into it, Dan turned around and informed a random kitchen servant of the mess. Assured that it would be cleaned and no one else would have the chance of slipping on it, he made his way back up the stairs, careful to step over the slick one, and returned to his room.

"Prince Daniel," Bentley said, bowing his head slightly as Dan approached. He nodded in response, before remembering what his father had said—

_"I've already alerted your guards to be extra wary from now on."_

The thought of them being suspicious of Phil, of even suspecting him of something so horrendous, made Dan feel sick. He didn't want Phil being silently judged like that, distrusted and suspected of wrongdoing. He had to do something to remedy it.

"About what my father said," Dan started, his hand resting on the doorknob. "There's no reason to be wary of Phil. I trust him more than anybody, and I'll have your heads if you start trying to pat him down whenever he so much as tries to enter my room." There was a brief pause, during which neither Alfonzo nor Bentley said anything. "Okay?"

"In all due respect, Prince," Alfonzo began, and Dan groaned internally. Here came the speech, the constant reminder that his father's orders outweighed his. "We have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh," Dan said quietly. And because he couldn't help himself, because he couldn't quite silence that niggling worry in the back of his mind, he asked, "Has Phil left?"

"I believe he's still in there waiting for you, Your Highness," Bentley answered. Dan nodded slowly, unable to quell his relief.

Without bothering to answer, Dan stepped into his room and leaned against the door. Phil definitely couldn't have done it, seeing as he hadn't left the room, though Dan felt slightly ashamed of himself for not being able to trust in him completely, even without proof.

He pressed his ear against the door, hearing a quiet murmur on the other side.

"Is it just me or is the Prince acting a little... strange?"

"Bentley," Alfonzo admonished quietly, and they both fell silent.

Dan sighed and ventured further into his rooms, carefully peering into his own bedroom. Phil was still situated on his bed, though now he was lounging comfortably against the pillows, one of Dan's novels propped open against his knee. As Dan watched, Phil flicked the page, inhaling deeply as he slouched a bit further on the pillows.

"Phil," Dan said quietly, and Phil jerked, his head snapping up to look at Dan.

"You scared me," he said with a soft smile, and Dan felt his chest ache with something more than longing.

"Sorry," Dan apologized.

—

Dinner, to say simply, was awkward. Dan knew that his father was suspicious of Phil, and his father knew that he knew while _also_  knowing that Dan _disliked_  the fact that he was suspicious of Phil. The only one ignorant of this current predicament was Phil, blissfully oblivious and digging into his dinner happily.

"This roast is lovely," Phil commented, breaking the inexorable silence. Dan cleared his throat quietly, stabbing a chunk of potato with his fork.

"I'll pass on your regards to the cook," Dan's father rumbled. Dan glared at his salad as if it had personally offended him. How dare his father sit there and play nice while thinking that Phil was out to get him!

“Thank you,” Phil said. “You know, I’m quite close with the night cook, Charlotte—she makes excellent midnight snacks.” It was a valiant attempt at getting the conversation to pick up, at getting _anything_  to fill the uncomfortable silence, but his father didn’t even try to help him out.

“Mm,” he grunted. “Well, I hope you’re not distracting her from her work.”

Dan snorted. As if Charlotte _had_  much work other than setting the kitchen to rights and preparing long-dish meals for the next day, or perhaps organizing the food schedule ahead of time. Having a quick meal to prepare in the middle of the night was probably a highlight for her, something for her to do and to keep her from feeling so tired as to accidentally fall asleep.

“Is something funny, Daniel?”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“May I inquire as to what?”

Dan sighed heavily. He didn’t like playing this game. He didn’t _care_  to play it. He just wanted to be able to sit and enjoy a meal with his father and best friend (read: possible love-interest) without it containing this feeling of utter suffocation. Although, he could thank his father’s random suspicions for one thing: he no longer felt quite so torn up over the fact that he maybe-possibly was in love with his best friend, or that he was starting to realize that he had absolutely no interest in girls at all, which happened to explain a lot. It was like now that he had something to be properly upset about, he couldn’t waste time fretting over feelings he may or may not have. Sure, his best friend was adorable and a boy and Dan might be in love with him, but who cares? His father thought that that very same boy was trying to kill him!

“I forgot,” Dan lied blatantly. Phil was looking at him with alarm, probably wondering why he was being so short with his father. Preferably, he would just assume Dan was in some sort of mood, which, he could admit, wasn’t something unheard of. He could be a bit touchy, from time to time.

His father looked at him sternly over his goblet of wine, and Dan returned the look with boredom. As the king returned his glass to the table, a loud _clank_  rang out through the opulent hall, one that might not have seemed so loud were there conversation filling the room as well. And how _stupid_  was that? There were _three of them_  in here! Usually two, seeing as Phil was only visiting. Why did they insist on dining in a room meant for many, a room that made it apparent just how alone they actually were? Did his father really not care—not care that he talked to no one besides his advisors and random nobles and his son? Not care that Dan’s only friend was another prince from a faraway land, without whom he never really bothered to talk to anyone at all?

“Daniel—”

“May I be excused?” Dan interrupted rudely. He glanced over at Phil, still wide-eyed and looking anxious, before clearing his throat. “And Phil too?”

“No,” his father said firmly. “You must finish—”

Before the words could even leave his father’s mouth, Dan was bending over his plate and shoveling food into his mouth as quickly as he could. It wasn’t prince-like in the least—was probably the least refined he’d looked (in company) in ages. And yet he didn’t care; he just wanted to get out of there, and he didn’t mind annoying his father as he did it.

“Done,” Dan proclaimed through a mouthful of half-chewed food, after which he (with difficulty) flushed it down with water.

His father glowered and opened his mouth to reply, probably a negative, and so Dan reached out and pushed Phil’s plate off the table, smiling slightly when it shattered on the ground, his food flying every which way. Phil paled, glancing from Dan to the spot that his food had been situated.

“Phil’s finished too,” he said. “Really, we have tons of plans for tonight, so if we could graciously be excused…”

“You might as well leave, since you insist on acting like a child,” his father conveyed, and Dan stood with a mocking bow, before jerking his head at Phil, who followed obediently.

“Er—thank you for the meal,” Phil said, rushed, before complying with Dan’s insistent hand on his wrist and allowing himself to be dragged from the room.

Once well away from the dining hall, Dan stopped walking quite so quickly, stopped stomping quite so loudly. He slowed down and let his angered breathing return to normal, at which point he looked at Phil.

“I can get you more food,” he said quietly.

“It’s okay, I was finished anyway.”

Dan rolled his eyes, turning down the hallway that would lead them towards the kitchens. “You haven’t angered me, don’t worry,” he said easily. “Wasn’t it the roast you liked?”

Once in the kitchen, Dan snatched a plate from a drying rack and maneuvered through the servants with ease, as if he owned the place (which, technically, he did). He squeezed his way through the cooks, not bothering to let them take the plate from him even as they offered, and served Phil some more food, taking the serving utensils directly out of the servants’ hands when he needed to.

“Is this enough?” he called, holding up the plate so Phil could see, still standing anxiously by the door.

“More than enough,” he answered, looking embarrassed. Dan shrugged and turned to leave.

“Will that be all, Your Highness?” one servant said boldly, perhaps not catching onto Dan’s bad mood. “Desserts have just come out of the oven.” Or perhaps he _had_  caught on. Dan smiled genuinely at the man.

“We’ll be having some of that as well,” he decided. With that, the servant was calling across the room for cake, and Dan’s arms were soon loaded with even more dishes, which he precariously held onto as he made his way back through the kitchen. Phil took the dessert plates from him and Dan nodded his thanks before retreating from the kitchen and making his way towards the stairs.

“Wait there for a moment,” he said decisively. Phil simply stared at him in confusion while Dan made his way tentatively up the stairs, making sure that there was no residual oil spillage. Once assured that the path was safe, he called down the spiraling staircase for Phil to continue on.

“What was that about?” Phil questioned. He elbowed Dan purposefully in the side, and Dan stepped further away from him.

“There was oil spilled on them earlier today, I wanted to make sure it was all clear.” Phil was silent for a moment, before he finally shook his head in exasperation.

“You shouldn’t have done that—what if you’d fallen?”

“Then it would look like it was your fault,” he joked morbidly. Phil sucked in a shocked breath.

“That’s a scary thought,” he admitted, before adding decisively: “Don’t get hurt around me.” Dan just snorted in response, though he couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face. This was the Phil he knew and loved. Somehow, even when he didn’t know what Dan was upset about, he could manage to cheer him up.

He turned to smile at Phil, his curly hair falling into his eyes as he couldn’t help staring at the face that he saw every day—still handsome even when familiar, before he was tripping. It wasn’t a usual kind of trip, one where your feet stumbled or you tripped over yourself—this one was on purpose. His foot came into contact with something before he was pitching forward, somehow managing to hold onto Phil’s dinner as he threatened to meet the ground with his face.

Miraculously, Phil managed to reach out and latch onto Dan’s arm before he could fall completely, pulling him backwards into his chest moments afterward, though one of their desserts was sacrificed to the ground in order to do so. Dan had barely had a chance to settle against Phil, and definitely had no chance to thank him, before a torch was tipping out of its brazier in the wall and falling, as if in slow motion, to the floor. The second it made contact with the ground, there were flames, jumping into the air and shooting outwards, filling the space with loud crackling and vicious heat. The flames stopped mere steps before them, though the heat was intense, and they stumbled backwards in response.

Belatedly, Dan realized that there must’ve been some sort of chemical on the ground to make the fire act like this. Normally, fire wouldn’t spread across stones, and it had clearly reached a wall somewhere in front of him, where the chemical presumably stopped. Dan was lucky, having been caught by Phil before he could fall to the ground directly under the torch.

“Holy shit,” Phil whispered, still gripping Dan tightly against him. “Are you alright?”

“What?” Dan said, his mind feeling foggy with shock, before he cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean—yes. I’m fine.”

“That was terrifying,” Phil admitted, still watching the fire uneasily, though it was now growing smaller. Phil released him then, ducking down to examine the ground.

“There’s a trip wire,” he announced, looking up at Dan with concern. His fingers trailed the wire, right next to the fallen torch, which it had apparently been connected to. Dan tripping over the wire had caused it to pull the torch to the ground. This was no accident; this was a real, legitimate, attempt of assassination. “Who could’ve done this?”

“Anyone,” Dan answered, subdued. “Anyone who knows where to find the supplies. Anyone who knows the path I usually take to my rooms.” Phil swallowed thickly.

“Maybe that stair-oil wasn’t on accident,” he suggested. “Dan… is someone trying to kill you?”

Unable to hold it in any longer, after the stressful dinner and the adrenaline thrumming through his body, Dan blurted, “Yes. And my father thinks it’s you.”

For a long moment, there was silence. And then: “Oh,” Phil finally breathed. “Well—that explains dinner.”

Dan flushed, unable to maintain eye contact as he nodded. “Sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“I don’t blame you,” Phil answered easily. He glanced down at the fire, which was now barely flickering and low against the ground, having burned up most of the chemical used to incite it. “That was just idiotic,” he commented, still staring at the failed assassination attempt. “Really, they could’ve done much better.”

Dan laughed, reaching out to kick Phil in the shin, his hands otherwise occupied by Phil’s dinner plate. “Come on,” he said easily, his heart much lighter than before. “If we both make it back to my rooms alive, we might just be able to enjoy that cake.” Or what was left of it.

—

They did not get to enjoy the cake. Thankfully, it was not due to either of them somehow becoming the victim of murder, but simply because Phil tripped (of his own accord—no trip wire needed) and dropped the remaining one on the floor.

“Man,” Dan lamented, staring sadly at the wasted dessert. “I was excited for that.”

“We could go back…” Phil suggested, though he didn’t sound any more excited to go traipsing through the castle (in which they knew there was a hostile person) in search of more dessert. Dan wasn’t entirely sure what to do about the person trying to kill him, either. He felt as if he couldn’t go to his father, who was so convinced that it was Phil that he would probably deny the evidence suggesting otherwise. Plus, he didn’t really want to see his father anyway, seeing as he’d stooped so low as to suspect Phil in the first place.

“I wasn’t _that_  excited,” Dan decided. They stopped in front of Dan’s quarters, now guarded by Lin and Elaine.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” Elaine greeted, and Dan nodded at her.

“There are two spilled cakes in the hallway,” he informed, knowing one of his guards would go to alert a maid. “Oh—and scorch marks too.”

“What—?”

Dan slipped past them, his hand latched firmly around Phil’s wrist so he would follow without staying to talk.

“Good evening!” Phil managed, before Dan was closing the door behind them and rolling his eyes. He let go of Phil then, oddly aware of every moment they were touching.

“What are we going to do?” Dan asked finally, the pressure of attempted-assassinations and suspected friends getting to him.

“Let’s play a game,” Phil suggested.

“ _What_? I almost get murdered—you, right along with me, and you want to play a _game_?”

“Sure, why not?” Phil answered easily. “It’s best to get our minds off things, isn’t it? Let’s play truth or dare.”

Despite his better judgement (and his multitude of protests), Dan somehow found himself sitting on the floor before his bed, Phil a couple feet in front of him.

“Why are we sitting on the floor again?” Dan asked.

“It’s traditional,” Phil proclaimed. “It’s how we play back in Leona.”

“You and your friends?” Dan couldn’t help asking, feeling an odd bite of something that was probably jealousy in his chest.

“Me and the staff,” Phil corrected. Dan couldn’t imagine asking Alfonzo or Charlotte to play a game with him, it was preposterous! But then, that was one of the differences between him and Phil. Phil just got along easily with everyone, it seemed.

“Okay, you go first,” Phil said easily, lounging against the wall opposite Dan, who was sitting up primly, more thanks to nerves than anything else. When in doubt, remember all that bullshit prince-training he’d had his whole life.

“I don’t know how,” Dan admitted. He was aware of the concept of the game, of course, but he’d never actually played it before. He certainly didn’t have any truths or dares lined up either—did Phil just keep them in stock at all times?

“Okay, I’ll go,” Phil easily remedied. “Truth or dare?”

“Er—what are they?”

“No,” Phil answered with a smile, “you don’t get to know them ahead of time. It’s part of the fun.”

“But what if I choose one and don’t like it?”

“Too bad.”

Dan looked at Phil, aghast, before deciding that if he _truly_  didn’t like it, he would just throw Phil out of his rooms entirely.

“Fine,” Dan grumbled. “Um. Truth, I guess.”

“Okay. What do you hate so much about courting?” Phil asked, after a moment of thought. Dan paled. He couldn’t ask that! Dan would have to say that he was gay! Or… he could lie, he supposed, although that really broke the spirit of the game, didn’t it? Plus, he felt like Phil would be able to tell he was lying. A half truth, then.

“I’m not interested in them,” he answered finally, which was true enough. And it could be interpreted in many ways. For example, perhaps he wasn’t interested in them because they were all noble snobs who seemed to think themselves better than everyone else just because they’d been invited to be courted by the (gay) prince.

Phil hummed thoughtfully, before, “Okay, your go.”

“Truth or dare?” Dan asked. Phil didn’t even pause to think about it.

“Dare.”

Dan _did_  have to think about it. There was a lot of humming and ‘umm’ing, but he finally thought of something. He remembered Phil’s second day here, remembered bringing him breakfast and reading dramatically from his book. He also remembered a letter falling out of said book, a letter covered in Dan’s own handwriting, which Phil had refused to let him read.

“I dare you to let me read that letter I wrote you,” Dan proclaimed, adding, when Phil looked confused, “The one you keep in that horrid romance novel.”

Phil groaned. He complained about how the dare should technically fall under truth, seeing as it _was_  truth being revealed, but Dan would hear nothing of it. A guard was then sent to Phil’s room to retrieve the book. Soon enough, Phil was pulling the letter from the pages and tossing it towards Dan, crossing his arms immediately after.

Dan could tell right away that it was old, partially because of the state of the paper, and partially because of the date at the top, written shortly after Phil had last left Hirona.

_Dear Phil,_

_I realize it’s been mere weeks since you left, but I miss you more than I could have possibly imagined. All the servants hate me as well—I knew they were only so nice because of you!_

_I’m planning my escape already. I think I’ll force open my window, climb onto the roof, and tie a rope along the spire on the other end of the castle, closest to the stables. From there I’ll prepare Alamo (I’ve watched him get prepared enough times to be able to manage it myself, I’d imagine) and ride into the sunset (towards Leona, of course!). I plan to shed my identity of prince and take up that of a commoner, a simple traveler._

_You can’t tell me not to go, Phil Lester! For all you know, by the time you get this letter I’ll have already left! Or perhaps by the time you get it I’ll be leaving, or leaving within the week! You’ll have to be constantly prepared for a visit from yours truly, so you can’t let your guard down for a moment._

_Anyway, this is a wonderful thought to have in your head regardless. Knowing that at any moment you could walk in from your morning ride, and there I’d be, sitting at your dining table and enjoying myself a large piece of fruit. Oh, the look on your face! It’ll be wonderful. Just you wait!_

Dan flushed after reading his words of the past. He could remember thinking it was a marvelous thought, for Phil to be going about his tasks from day to day, constantly wondering if today would be the day they’d be reunited. Dan had never actually gone, of course, but he’d desperately wanted to.

“It was sort of my inspiration,” Phil offered voluntarily. “It’s why I didn’t tell you I was coming ahead of time.”

“And why _did_  you come?” Dan demanded, the answer to that question still a mystery. Phil had said he would tell Dan if he beat him in a sword fight, but maybe now that they were playing truth or dare…

“It’s not your turn,” Phil answered easily, smirking as Dan huffed in annoyance. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare, I suppose.” And so the game continued, the tasks getting wilder and more obscure as they ran out of ideas. Phil continued to choose dare for every turn, so Dan didn’t even get a chance to ask him about why he’d come to Hirona anyway.

“Would you stop being a prince if you could?” Phil asked sometime later, after Dan had picked truth.

“Yes,” Dan answered, giving it little thought. The chance to give up his responsibilities? To be able to leave his kingdom, to perhaps go to Leona with Phil indefinitely? He would do it in a heartbeat. Phil seemed to take his answer in stride, and the game continued.

Eventually, Dan dared Phil to a sword fight, this time with the intention to win.

They fought long and hard, the rhythm familiar after all the times they’d sparred together. Occasionally Dan even saw Phil’s moves before he made them, side-stepping a moment ahead of time, ducking before Phil could land a hit.

He didn’t know how he did it; how he found his way inside Phil’s guard, how he tripped him (slightly unsportsmanlike) and pinned him to the ground, how he leveled his wooden sword at Phil’s throat. All he knew was that he _did_ do it, and that he was sitting on Phil’s chest, pinning his arms to the floor and grinning wickedly.

“Tell me,” Dan demanded. Phil sighed.

“I’ll tell you,” he said, and Dan waited, excitement building in his stomach. “That I went easy on you!”

After that, it was only a matter of seconds before their positions somehow switched, Phil pinning him easily and disarming him as well. Dan hated being pinned by Phil, though mostly because he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like in a different scenario, in ones where instead of fighting, they were perhaps kissing, or maybe even more…

“You’re the worst,” Dan huffed, turning his head to the side to avoid looking at Phil’s face. It was too intense, looking at him so close, knowing how easy it would be to kiss him if he just leaned up.

“You love me,” Phil answered easily.

 _Yes_ , Dan thought. “Fuck off,” he answered.

When they finally went to sleep, after much too much truth or dare for just two people, Dan found himself as wound up as he had been during Phil’s first night in here. He could remember finding it so difficult to fall asleep, though this time Phil succumbed to it quite easily.

As Dan laid there, Phil rolled over and gathered him in his arms. He remained stiff, having sucked in a surprised breath, as Phil’s arms encircled him, his face pressed into Dan’s neck. It took a long time for Dan to fall asleep, due to the fact that he could feel each and every one of Phil’s breaths directly against his neck.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! there's a kind of smut scene but it has non-con vibes so just be on the look out - don't worry, you'll see it coming!

Keeping a secret was a lot harder than Dan had thought, especially when the secret was that he was in love with his best friend. He'd kept secrets before of course, little, unimportant things—but never from _Phil_. Now that he was, he felt the strain it put on him, the constant pressure on his chest squeezing his insides, pushing down on him and making him _know_  that he was going to have to tell Phil. It was just a matter of when. Honestly, his feelings for Phil were starting to become a royal pain.

"You okay?" Phil asked, peering up at him from across the table. Dan cleared his throat.

"Yeah. Of course."

They were in the library, a place they hadn't been together since the last time Phil had visited Hirona. Nowadays, Dan kept his books in his rooms: a constantly growing collection of well-worn and well-loved books, ones that he'd thumbed through many times and placed fondly on his shelf. Now, though, he needed something new to read (if only to momentarily distract him from his feelings), and there was an extensive library right in the west wing of the castle. It was big enough to house maybe five of Dan's living quarters; chock full of books, comfortable reading chairs, and strategically placed tables. It had been one of Dan's favorite places when he was little, before he met Phil and before he learned about order-and-delivery via horse.

"Are you sure?" Phil asked softly, as if they weren't the only ones in the whole library and had an actual need to be quiet. "Because you keep looking as if you're so far away. And you're a bit pale..."

"I'm fine," Dan asserted, fiddling with a page in the book in an attempt to do something with his hands, anything to keep them occupied and not-shaking. He, most certainly, was not fine. There was the whole love thing to contend with. And the gay thing. And the prince with responsibilities thing. But mostly it was the fact that Phil was so beautiful that every time Dan looked at him his insides seemed to clench, his breath sticking somewhere in his throat. "I'm just..."

"Anxious?" Phil input, laughter on the edge of his voice. "It's just a girl.”

Dan huffed, turning his eyes back to his book. He’d managed to crumple the edge of his page with his thumb, and he meticulously flattened it back out, pressing down over the crease. “I guess.” He’d managed to forget, for a few moments, that he was to court another girl today. He was dreading it more than usual, dreading it not only because it was a long, boring affair, but because this would be his first time doing it after realizing he wasn’t actually attracted to girls. He’d be faced with this entire afternoon meant to make him feel attraction towards some random girl when it was never going to happen anyway. It was going to put things into perspective even more than it already was, and Dan was kind of sick of having his world turned upside down.

Phil glanced towards the library doors, as if afraid there might be eavesdroppers, before looking back at Dan. The only possible eavesdroppers were Alfonzo and Bentley, who Dan and Phil had decided to inform of Dan’s little predicament. They’d told them all about the assassination attempts, and in a moment of trust, the king’s misconceptions about Phil. Dan had felt safe going to them, knowing that they were willing to listen and act on it, whereas if he went to tell his own father, he’d probably be faced with more accusations towards Phil. It wasn’t just that he hated hearing it, hated having his friend’s honor insulted; it was the fact that hearing it made Dan so angry that he felt like he could do something he might regret.

Of course, Alfonzo and Bentley had informed him that it was their duty to tell the captain of the guard: a stern, responsible kind of man with a mustache that didn’t suit his face at all. And it was probably within _his_  duty to tell the king, but Dan didn’t care as long as he wasn’t the one who had to confront him. It’d be nice if his father could stop suspecting Phil, but even if he didn’t, Dan wasn’t going to stop hanging around with him.

“We’ll do something fun after,” Phil promised, breaking Dan out of his reverie. He had to scramble to remember what they’d even been talking about, before he recalled—ah yes, women. Courting.

“Like what?”

“It’s a surprise,” Phil said giddily. “But it’ll be fun. I know you’re usually grumpy after these things, so maybe this’ll cheer you up.” Dan felt a slow smile spreading across his face, and his heart seemed to beat a rhythm in his chest: _I love you. I love you_.

“It better be good,” Dan said, unable to contain his grin any longer. “Sometimes they try to kiss me.”

Phil laughed loudly, before seeming to remember where they were and forcing himself to be quiet. Dan rolled his eyes. They were _princes_. In Dan’s _own library_! They could bang on drums in here if they so desired, they could do anything!

“I’m going to get another book,” Dan said while standing up. Mainly it was an excuse to get away from Phil for a moment or two, the presence of whom made Dan feel like he might confess his love at any minute, and he didn’t want that. If he was going to tell him (and God, the thought gave him anxiety), it would have to be strategically planned out. It would have to be thought about backwards and forwards and sideways. He’d have to know exactly what to say and when to say it; have to have thought of every single thing Phil could respond with. And so he turned and wandered down one of the many aisles, not wanting any accidental confessions to occur.

Dan pulled a random book down, the cover a dark red with elegant gold designs. He flipped it open to the first page, whispering the words to himself as he decided whether or not he wanted to read it. As he turned the page, he heard a quiet creak on the other side of the bookshelf. Dan paused, tilting his head slightly and listening harder.

“Phil?” he said quietly. When there was no response, Dan took a step closer to the bookshelf and pushed a few books aside. Unable to see anyone in the other aisle, he shrugged and turned back around. This book seemed good enough anyway.

And then it happened again, a little more pronounced this time. At first, Dan couldn’t see anything that was wrong, though he frowned at the definite creaking. And then the bookshelf was tilting forward. Dan felt his eyes widen and his breath catch in his throat as a book slid from the middle of the shelf and thunked to the floor, quickly followed by another, and then a cascade of books came plummeting towards him. He took off running, cursing the fact that he was in the very center of the aisle, the furthest part away from either end. Books continued to rain down, hitting him painfully in the head and back and shoulders, and falling on the floor in front of him, making him trip and stumble. But the books were nothing compared to the shelf, which was falling, falling, falling…

Dan could see that he wasn’t going to make it. The shelf seemed to be falling in slow motion, but he was still so far from the end of the aisle. Dan tripped once more, except this time he actually fell to the floor. Instead of getting up and trying run again, he simply threw his arms over his head and endured the rain of books, holding his breath and bracing his body for the impact to come.

Except it never came. Instead there was a loud crash as the shelf ended its descent by slamming into the shelf in front of it, mere inches above Dan. Sickeningly, the shelf it’d crashed into started to tip, and Dan could hear books falling down in the next aisle. He realized that the shelves were falling like dominos, that they would continue to fall until it reached the end.

Next, he registered the shouting. Three distinct voices calling his name and sounding supremely panicked.

“I’m here!” he called. He started to shimmy along the floor, shoving fallen books out of his way as he shuffled towards the end of the aisle. He could hear each shelf slamming into the next one and the thundering pitter patter of thousand of books falling to ground. Dan felt bad for the servants who would have to reorganize this mess.

“Your Highness!” Alfonzo cried, ducking down at the end of the aisle, his face a complete mask of worry. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dan grunted, the effort of having to slither like this—unable to get onto his hands and knees due to the lack of room—was taking its toll. “The bookshelf fell.”

“They keep falling,” Dan heard Bentley mutter, still sounding pretty panicked. “Oh fuck.”

“Bentley!” Alfonzo hissed. “Not in front of the prince!”

Dan winced as another loud smash filled the usually quiet library. “Is Phil okay?” Dan called, shoving more books out of his way in annoyance.

“I’m fine,” Phil piped in, squatting next to Alfonzo. “How did it fall?”

“I don’t know,” Dan admitted a bit breathlessly. “I thought I heard something in the other aisle, but—”

“Search the library,” Phil instructed, Alfonzo stood and he and Bentley walked off in different directions, and Dan realized he’d been commanding the guards.

“Do you really think that was another attempt?” Dan questioned, finally emerging from the aisle. Phil pulled him to his feet immediately, and Dan could only blink in surprise when Phil reached out and brushed the hair out of his face.

“It has to be,” Phil answered easily. Except he wasn’t making eye contact. Instead he was scanning over Dan’s body, before pushing his hand into Dan’s hair. For a bizarre, exhilarating moment, he thought Phil was going to kiss him. “It’s naive to think that any time you almost die isn’t on purpose at this point.”

“It could’ve been a loose screw,” Dan said pointlessly. Truthfully, he just didn’t like the thought of someone trying to kill him. He didn’t see what he could have possibly done wrong, what he could’ve done to garner attempts at being _murdered_.

Phil didn’t bother dignifying him with a response, instead he pressed down on Dan’s skull with his fingers, before moving them slightly and pressing down again. When Dan winced, Phil frowned. “You probably have bruising all over your head,” he murmured. Dan nodded as if he cared at all. Really, all he could manage to think about was the fact that Phil’s hand was in his hair. Every time he moved it to press on another part of Dan’s head, his fingers brushed through the strands and brought with them little tingles of pleasure that shot all the way down Dan’s spine.

“There’s no one in the library,” Bentley informed, appearing from the end of an aisle opposite them and Phil finally pulled his hands out of Dan’s hair. Belatedly, Dan realized that the library was quiet once more, and that the falling shelves must’ve reached an end. Thankfully, the aisles didn’t go on forever and were interrupted with little areas for sitting, which must’ve been where the shelves had finally stopped.

“Or they escaped while we were all distracted,” Phil muttered.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Alfonzo added, appearing from yet another aisle. Dan sighed.

“I’m getting sick of people trying to kill me,” he complained. A glance out the windows revealed that the sun was high in the sky and it was due time for him to meet the lady of the day. Cecily was probably having an aneurysm right about now, walking into his rooms only to find that he was nowhere to be found.

When Dan did show up on time to court the lady, the usual women who attended to him breathed a collective sigh of relief and set about straightening his cape and tugging at the bottom of his shirt, making sure his entire outfit was spick and span and ready to go.

Cody, the servants’ apprentice and son of Charlotte, stood to the side and watched the proceedings as usual. Dan wondered if the boy felt jealous of him. He imagined a lot of people wished they were the prince. After all, an endless amount of women were thrown at him; he had a large comfortable house and enough money to afford practically whatever he wanted. Who _wouldn’t_  want to be the prince?

Besides himself, of course.

Again, he imagined a world where he wasn’t Prince Daniel—just Dan, a respectable young man with eyes for the Prince of Leona. Except maybe Phil wouldn’t be prince either. Maybe they’d both just be commoners in Hirona, and they could live together and have no more responsibility than their jobs and their own happiness.

Caught up in his daydream about Phil, Dan barely registered that he was being poked and prodded towards the next room, where the lady undoubtedly waited. The previous afternoon, before his father had insulted his best friend by suggesting that he might be attempting to assassinate Dan, he’d said something about inviting a lady from the ball that Dan had gotten along with. What was her name? Caroline? Kristen? Either way, Dan doubted that he’d actually gotten along with her.

Deciding to just get this over with, he took a deep breath, convinced himself not to insult the girl the first second he saw her, and stepped into the room.

Dan’s eyes widened as he made eye contact with the lady, who was smiling widely. Memories flooded him.

 _“I_ did _promise your father I’d help you find the perfect woman, after all.”_

_“I don’t need your help,” Dan insisted. “I’m doing just fine on my own.” And with that he stalked away, introduced himself to a random woman, and held her closer than he’d held any other all night. She was ridiculously curvy, and she had no shame about pressing herself up against him, letting him feel every dip and curve of her._

“Christina,” Dan blurted now, suddenly remembering the name his father had told him.

“Prince Daniel,” she said with a respectable nod. She stood up then and walked towards him. She was much more forward than any other girl he’d ever courted, all of whom had stayed seated and shy and waited for him to make the move; had waited and waited and not protested when Dan had refused to get very near them at all.

Christina, meanwhile, assaulted him with a hug, and Dan was reminded very forcefully of just how curvy she was. “It’s so nice to see you again,” she sighed into his ear. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the ball.”

“Oh,” Dan said, rather abruptly. “Uh, me too. But—about you.”

Christina giggled, apparently amused at his stuttered response, and she hooked her arm through his. “So, do I get the grand tour?”

—

The grand tour, apparently, stopped behind one of the large hedges on the east side of the castle. Christina pushed him against it, pressed her lips to her neck, and dragged her nails down his stomach. Dan froze, his heart thundering something sick and uneasy in his chest. More than anything, he was aware of how _not-Phil_  she was. And then he was aware of how not-a-boy she was.

His voice seemed to be stuck somewhere in his throat, however, and he wasn’t really able to say anything at all.

And then Christina, who was perhaps a certified crazy person, dropped to her knees in front of him. Dan didn’t know what to do. He could feel his entire face go red. Was she— _was she trying to_ —?

“Relax,” she said sweetly. “You just stand there, I’ll make you feel good.”

His voice apparently still on vacation, Dan only managed a nod, his eyes beyond wide. What the fuck was he doing? What was _she_  doing?

Before he could say anything more, Christina was unbuttoning his trousers and pulling out his cock (she was _touching_ him! _There_! He was the prince!)

“Nervous?” she commented. Apparently though, she wasn’t expecting a response, because she leaned in and did something wonderful with her mouth, and Dan was lurching forward, his eyes clenched shut. Suddenly it didn’t matter that she was a girl or that she wasn’t Phil—the only thing that mattered was that she had a mouth and it was hot and it was good.

Dan opened his eyes again, and if he wasn’t already not moving, he would’ve froze. Because standing across from him, eyes wide on the other side of the garden path, was Phil. And Dan couldn’t _say_  anything. Christina was _sucking_  his _cock_  and Phil was _there_!

He tried to communicate with Phil with his eyes. A series of _what the fuck!_  and _I’m gay_  and also _I’m in love with you_. Instead of saying anything back, Phil simply raised an eyebrow. And sure, Dan was the virgin here (or—was he? Still? Even now?) but he was pretty sure that normally when best friends walked in on friends getting head, they left and went about their merry way. But Phil was still standing there. And slowly, his eyes slid down, away from Dan’s eyes. They examined his body, pressed against the hedge, his hands fisting a handful of branches (a few snapped beneath his fingers) and finally stopped at his crotch, currently hidden from view by Christina’s head (and further hidden from view by her mouth).

She did something with her tongue then, flicked it in some certain way, and Dan gasped, bucking into her mouth involuntarily. Her hands reached up and pressed him back against the hedge, and she sank further down onto him, her mouth making obscene noises. And Dan was still making eye contact with Phil, except now his mouth was hanging open as well, and he was pretty sure his eyes were glazed over.

Christina moaned around him, and Dan felt his eyes roll into the back of his head. He suddenly didn’t care that Phil was watching (and truthfully, he hadn’t the entire time. Phil’s presence somehow made this occasion better) and he moaned uselessly as she lapped around his head, and then he was coming in her mouth, and she was swallowing it all down. When Dan opened his eyes again, Phil was gone, and Christina stood up with a smile on her face.

“That was just a thank you for courting me today,” Christina said with a giggle, and she hooked her arm through Dan’s once more and didn’t even ask him to repay her. It was then that Dan realized his cock was still outside of his trousers, now limp, and he scrambled to shove it back into place, Christina giggling all the while.

—

“Looks like you had a fun afternoon,” Phil commented, when Dan walked into the kitchens. He hadn’t expected Phil to be here, especially seeing as it was the middle of the night and they weren’t even having a sleepover. In all honesty, Dan had been avoiding Phil ever since Christina left, a mixture of embarrassment and shame swirling about inside him.

There was also that small doubt inside of him, wondering if Phil possibly liked him, and if he thought Dan didn’t like him because of Christina’s… performance… on him. He’d told the guards to let no one into his rooms (“Er—not even Prince Philip, Your Highness?”) and had spent the day sulking and wanking furiously, remembering again and again what it had felt like to have Phil _watching him_  during that. And it was strange too, because previously he’d almost never touched himself.

“Oh,” Dan said, realizing that he needed to say something. “Weren’t you gonna do something with me after?” he finally asked. “To cheer me up?”

“I didn’t think you needed to be cheered up any longer,” Phil said with a smirk.

“I think I do.”

Charlotte walked into the kitchen then, as if she had a radar for when troublesome princes were trying to filch her food. Dan flushed, remembering what she’d said during the ball. She knew he was in love with Phil. And he now knew he was in love with Phil. And the only one unaware of it in the room was Phil.

“Hey Charlotte!” Phil greeted easily, and Dan did his best to act normal. Deciding to do what was easiest, he acted like himself.

“We’re starved,” Dan said imperiously, before perching on the counter and picking fastidiously at his nail.

“And I suppose you’re expecting me to make you something?”

“Of course.”

“Please,” Phil added.

“Of course please,” Dan muttered, obviously imitating Phil. He was pretty sure that Charlotte could see right through his act, and Phil probably thought he was just being weird and moody again. He didn’t care. Falling into this version of himself, the one that existed without Phil, was easy. It was like a defense mechanism, a shield he had with him at all times.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Charlotte responded, and went about putting together something for them to eat. “Are you two having another sleepover?” Dan glared at his knees. She was obviously just trying to get more gossip. She probably thought he was some gross pervert who molested his best friend in his sleep or something.

“Actually, we both just ran into each other here,” Phil answered. Dan looked up and saw Charlotte frown, no doubt confused by this answer. Dan was sure that if he’d been the one to say it, she would’ve disregarded it immediately as a lie.

“Can you put it in a picnic basket?” Phil asked a few minutes later, as Charlotte was loading whatever she’d prepared onto plates.

“Going for a picnic at this hour?” she questioned, already moving the contents of their midnight snack (meal, more like it) and packing it into little containers before loading it into a basket.

“It’s never too late to enjoy the outdoors,” Phil proclaimed, and then he was bounding forward and taking the basket, kissing Charlotte on the cheek as thanks, and spinning back around. “Onwards, Prince Daniel.”

Dan shoved him, hard, as he jumped off the counter, before leading the way out of the kitchen without a goodbye to the cook.

“So where are we going?” Dan asked once in the corridor, letting Phil take the lead instead. Phil just smiled.

“You’ll see.”

They emerged from the front of the castle quietly, nodding at the line of guards outside, before making their way across the grounds. On the east side of the castle was the gardens, lines of flowers and gravel paths surrounded by hedges: otherwise known as the place that would never be the same for Dan again. On the north side of the castle was just a vast amount of land, before which lay the city, all lit up with late night people’s torches. On the west of the castle were the stables and large plots of land for riding. And to the south…

Phil led Dan calmly around the castle (and it really was quite a walk, considering the building’s size), until they were behind it, walking steadily downhill towards the large, glimmering lake. There were slight ripples dancing along the surface from the night’s warm breeze, and it glittered with reflections of the stars and moon. A few large trees were situated around the edges, and Phil led him right to the largest one, where he promptly sat and flipped open the basket cover.

Neither of them had brought a blanket, and Dan wrinkled his nose at the thought of sitting on the ground in his pajamas. Without a better option, however, he sat and retrieved a sandwich. The inside was full of chocolate, banana slices, and melted marshmallows. It was love at first bite.

“So,” Phil finally said, breaking the pleasant silence they’d shared while munching on their diabetes-sandwiches. “Do you think she’s the one?”

Dan blinked in surprise, for some reason not having expected the conversation to turn back to Christina. “Er—no. Not really.”

“What?” Phil demanded. “But what about what you guys did? That was your first time, wasn’t it?”

Dan flushed heavily. He didn’t like the fact that _that_  had been his first time. Embarrassingly enough, he’d kind of wanted Phil to be the first one to touch him. He knew that was unlikely, however. Seeing as how he didn’t even know if Phil was into guys, and if he was, there was no saying that he’d be interested in Dan whatsoever.

“This might sound a little weird,” Dan said quietly. “But, I didn’t really want her to… do that.”

“ _What_?” Phil repeated.

“I know!” Dan said breathlessly, looking at his knees as he forced himself to laugh. “I know. It’s weird.”

“No,” Phil said, his voice suddenly much softer. “No, of course it’s not. Just—why didn’t you say no?”

“I didn’t know how,” Dan said quietly. “And—it wasn’t so bad. After she… you know.”

Phil was silent for a moment. And then he was standing up and stepping over the basket before plopping himself beside Dan. He wrapped both arms firmly around his body, and Dan let his head rest against Phil’s shoulders. Neither of them said anything about the fact that Phil had been there the whole time, that they’d made eye contact throughout the occasion. Dan definitely didn’t say anything about how he’d liked it, about how that was definitely the best part.

He didn’t know how much time passed, how much time spent hugging Phil and feeling Phil’s fingers brushing lightly over his skin and playing with his hair comfortably, before Phil nudged him.

“Okay,” he said. “Now it’s time to do what we came here for.”

“Didn’t we come here to have a picnic?” Dan asked. Phil just laughed.

“Of course not! That was just a coincidence!” He stood up and Dan scrambled to his feet after him, not wanting to be left behind. “We’re here to skinny dip.”

“ _What_?” Dan cried, taking an instinctive step back. “Are you mad!?”

“It’ll be fun!”

“It’ll be… _naked_!”

“Does that really matter anymore?” Phil asked. And Dan wasn’t quite sure, but he thought Phil might’ve been referring to earlier this afternoon, when he’d seen something even more personal than Dan simply being naked.

“Fine,” Dan finally muttered, and he started unbuttoning his pajama shirt before he could change his mind. “Fine! But when we’re eaten alive by leeches, don’t come crying to me.”

“There aren’t any leeches in here,” Phil promised. “Just friendly fish.”

“And how would you know?” Dan sneered, before flinging his shirt to the ground. He started on his pants next, unlacing the little ties at the top. “You’re not the one who lives here.”

“I asked the servants,” Phil answered. Dan made the mistake of looking up then, and he had to swallow thickly as his eyes raked over Phil’s bare chest, his bare thighs. He had his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his underwear, and Dan yanked off the rest of his clothes and raced towards the water before he could see. Phil laughed and followed after him, the sound of his footsteps splashing in the water only moments after his.

The water was pleasantly cool, and Dan waded in until it was at his belly button before he turned to Phil.

“We’re _naked_ ,” he said, unable to get over that fact. God, he just wanted to take a step closer, to press his body against Phil’s and feel the warmth of his skin in the spring night. Water dripped down his chest, having splashed up there from when they’d entered the lake.

Phil just laughed, and he splashed water towards Dan. And then Dan was splashing him back, and wading further out into the water. And then he was swimming to get away from Phil, fully aware that his ass was in the air and uncaring.

At one point, Phil grabbed his ankle and pulled him back, and Dan shrieked. They played in the lake for a long while, racing each other and scaring each other. It _was_  the perfect way to cheer him up, though Dan didn’t know how Phil had known that before he’d even left to court the lady. It was crazy how well Phil knew him, and once again, Dan found it impossible to get it out of his head, to stop thinking about how much he loved him.

“You have water in your eyelashes,” Phil pointed out. Dan could see them, little water droplets dangling in front of his eyes, shiny and slowly growing heavier before they dropped. They were still deep in the water, both of them on their toes. Phil’s hand had somehow found its way to Dan’s arm, possibly for balance, and Dan found that he couldn’t look away from Phil.

It was startling, how beautiful he was. As if Dan didn’t see him every day, didn’t _realize_  every single day—and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He was practically frozen in place, just blown away by Phil, by the water droplet sliding down the side of his neck and the warmth of his hand on Dan’s arm under the water. Phil’s smile was so soft and serene, and Dan felt like he couldn’t even stand anymore. It wasn’t until Phil picked up a leaf floating on the surface and placed it atop Dan’s head, that he found himself saying it without any planning at all.

“I’m in love with you.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! this is just another lil mini in between chapter kind of thing that's happening. hopefully it'll tide you over til saturday and will make you feel better after that cliffhanger :D

_Dear Dan,_

_Do you remember the time we first met?_

_I do. I think you hated me._

_You've always been stubborn. When we first met you were so determined to not like me. Competing with you has always been fun, which I suppose is why I wanted to beat you at your own game, wanted to make you like me._

_It'd been my first time out of Leona. At the ripe age of eight years old my father had decided that I was old enough to visit our neighbor, Hirona. Our kingdoms have been allied since about forever, so the journey was nothing more than pretenses and, more importantly, vacation. For me, it'd been the most exciting thing in my life._

_It was crazy to me how once we passed the border everything changed. The accents changed, the land changed—even the architecture changed! I was astounded and amazed, and I hadn't even met you yet!_

_Once we arrived, my father went off to talk to yours about boring old country affairs, and I was left to explore the garden. Being an eight-year-old, this seemed like a great opportunity, and I took to exploring with reckless abandon. Your garden was much bigger than the one I had back in Leona, and I especially liked the towering hedges. Which, apparently, you did as well. After all, the garden was where I first met you._

_You were torturing some poor guard, dragging him along with you (as if it wasn't his job to follow the young Prince around everywhere already) and insisting he do whatever you wanted._

_"You have to find me the best rock, Alfred," I remember you saying, your chin tilted upward imperiously, though you were much shorter than the guard. "For my rock collection."_

_"Yes, Your Highness."_

_Excited to see another kid my age, I plunged forward to meet you._

_"Who are you?" you demanded as soon as you saw me, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. I pretended not to notice as you shuffled slightly behind your guard._

_"I'm Prince Phillip," I said brightly. You had scoffed, looking as if I'd told you I was a frog._

_"_ I'm _the Prince," you sneered._

 _"I'm the Prince of_ Leona _," I then corrected. You just glared at me. I'm pretty sure you'd never even talked to a kid your age before, and yet for some reason I was determined to become your friend._

_"Well then why are you in Hirona?" you'd demanded._

_"My father is talking to yours about our ah-lie-ance," I pronounced carefully. I can remember quite clearly that my father had taught me that word on the journey to Hirona, and I'd felt like a genius saying it to you._

_You then turned up your nose at me. "I don't think it'll work out," you answered. I'm pretty sure you were just trying to say something mean, not even sure what that alliance thing I'd mentioned even was._

_"What's your name?" I had asked, disregarding you completely. You looked affronted, but you also didn't hesitate to answer. I think you were as fascinated by me as I was by you. After all, I was not only a little boy, the same age as you, I was also a_ prince _._

_"Daniel," you answered. I nodded._

_"Dan," I responded. Your face practically went purple! I remember now! It'd taken all my effort not to laugh at the look on your face!_

_"That's not my name!" you'd said shrilly. The guard behind you had seemed amused (and also a little relieved that you'd been distracted—I assume he was tired of having to occupy your [demanding] attention)._

_"It's in your name," I argued._

_“I—but—!” you yelled, looking infuriated. "Then I'll call you /Phil/," you spat._

_"That's what all my friends call me," I responded pleasantly._

_"Then I'll call you Philip," you said, looking as if, for the life of you, you couldn't figure out how to beat me. (And it wasn't your fault, I was in for the win with this game)._

_"That's fine."_

_Outraged, you yelled, "Then I won't call you anything at all!" With that you'd turned and stomped off, your guard reluctantly following after you. I'd always wondered why guards were constantly with you or guarding your rooms, but I guess our kingdoms were just different in that regard. I'd always had free rein back in Leona, and sometimes servants would be running around everywhere looking for me, having not realized that I'd wandered off to the library or the pool. That would never happen to you—you couldn't go anywhere without everyone knowing._

_I can remember following you around in the garden after you'd retreated, hiding behind hedges and spying on you. You'd pestered your guard throughout the rest of the afternoon, demanding to know why "that boy" was even here, and "wasn't that boy a right_ arse _?" (He'd reprimanded you for that one.)_

 _Of course, we didn't travel all the way to Hirona simply for my father to have a quick conversation with yours. We were readily invited to stay a while, which was when my real mission began. You would be my friend and you would_ like it _!_

_At first you avoided me like the plague, turning and running the very moment you saw me. But I was always faster, and I could catch up to you quite easily. And then you took to accepting my presence but simply ignoring me, even when I shared wonderful stories about my homeland with you. Though somehow, your resolve crumbled, and you couldn't resist responding to me._

_"How rude," I remember commenting, after you'd asked a passing guard to play hide and seek only to be sneered at._

_"He should be fired," you'd said vehemently, before seeming to realize that you'd actually responded to me, the person you usually tried so desperately to ignore._

_"I'll play hide and seek with you, Dan," I offered, and after some serious internal debate, you'd accepted. And then said, "Don't call me Dan!"_

_Our friendship grew swiftly after that, which I'm sure you remember. We spent nearly every waking moment together, and plenty of sleeping ones too (after all, sleepovers soon occurred more often than not)._

_When the time came for me to go back to Leona, you'd actually looked a bit sad. Instead of offering me a heartfelt farewell, you'd told me, "Good riddance!" with a firm nod, before crossing your arms and marching across the grass. I'd thrown a rock at your back. (It missed)._

_I don't think you know this, but on the ride home my father told me about how you'd begged him to bring you with us._

_"I want to see Leona!" you'd said. And then, "Plus, I'll really miss Phil." (That is, if my father is to be trusted. He could've just made that story up after seeing how sad I was on the journey home)._

_Still, I don't think he was lying, as there was a letter from you waiting for me when I got home. I'd been so excited I'd started writing a reply before I even remembered to read it! Anyway, I've read it a million times by now, and I've even copied it down, so you can't ever deny writing it. I didn't know if you remembered it though, so I've included it in this envelope._

_In hopes of seeing you again soon!_

_Love, Phil._

_\--_

_Dear Prince Philip,_

_I am quiet glad that your gone now. You we're to loud and noisy, after all. Also, you werent as fun as you think you are. I'm having a much funner time now with you back in Leeonah, and there's no body to steal my blankets._

_Yes, I am very happy your gone._

_That being said - when are you coming back?_

_Only because I want to kno so I can preepare. I will have the bestest hiding places and you will never be abel to find me. It will be like your not even here!_

_See you Never,_

_Prince Daniel (of Hirona)_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: lack of self care/not eating

Immediately after realizing what he said, Dan froze. He felt his eyes widen and he stayed still through sheer force of will alone. He felt as if he moved the world would fall out from under him. His heart, instead of beating crazy like it should’ve been, felt like it wasn’t beating at all. Everything was suspended in time, a moment where Dan was allowed to feel nothing but pure, unadulterated panic.

Phil blinked. It was the most agonizing blink of Dan's life.

" _In love_  in love?" he repeated.

Dan felt sick. Now was the time to backtrack, to laugh it off and say it was a joke. _Got you!_

"Yes," he whispered.

Phil blinked again. "Oh," he said.

"You don't need to say anything," Dan said hurriedly. "It's not like I want you to—to _reciprocate_. I just felt like I should tell you," his voice got steadily quieter as he talked, starting off as almost a shout and ending in a whisper.

"That's okay," Phil said simply. "I don't mind."

Dan felt his stomach plummet. For some reason, he’d wanted—had almost _expected_ —Phil to interrupt him, to say that he felt the same. Instead Dan just felt mortified and inexplicably _hurt_. Phil not sharing his sentiments wasn't his fault, there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'm tired," Dan heard himself say. He sounded weird and distant, but he didn't care. "I'm going to go to bed."

With that, he was splashing out of the lake and gathering his clothes hurriedly, tears wet and uncomfortable in his eyes.

"Dan, wait!" Phil called, but Dan steadily ignored him and continued on his way. His guards were informed that no one— _especially_  not Phil—was allowed into his rooms.

\--

"Your Highness," Alfonzo said, voice muffled. Dan stood bodily against the door.

"Yes?"

"This is starting to get... worrisome."

"You're here to guard me, Alfonzo," Dan informed. "Not provide me with your irrelevant opinions."

"Your Highness," Bentley tried, his voice high. Dan crossed his arms, though no one was around to appreciate it, seeing as his guards were outside the room while he was locked in it. "Perhaps you should talk to Prince Philip."

"I shall do no such thing," Dan announced. He didn't like the reminder his guards were causing him—he'd been doing a very excellent job of ignoring every feeling that tried to creep up on him, and he'd almost managed to erase Phil from his mind completely.

"Why?" Bentley asked, which was completely out of line. Dan could have him hanged for that!

"None of your business," Dan hissed. "He could've mortally insulted me for all you know."

"Are we talking about the same Prince Philip, Your Highness?" Alfonzo asked tentatively. Dan resisted the urge to open the door and punch the man in the face. After all, opening the door meant letting in the outside world, and the outside world contained Phil, who Dan was never going to look at again. Plus, the guards might question his red-rimmed eyes, which he hadn't been able to get rid of—probably due to all the crying.

"No one comes in," Dan said simply, ignoring Alfonzo. _And don't even say that name to me_.

"But your highness," Bentley started. “Cecily—"

"No one!" Dan repeated, before stalking away from the door and traipsing through his rooms angrily. He was starting to go crazy in here. It'd been three days since that unfortunate incident in the lake (and why had he done it _then_? When they were both _naked_?), and Dan hadn't left his room since.

He'd tried to at least be productive with his time, between all the crying and wishing that he could slither out the window and run away and never have to see Phil again. For example, he'd still practiced with his sword every morning, although now instead of fighting Phil, he imagined that he'd be able to stop himself from telling Phil that he _loved him_  if he could just swing that much faster, sidestep that much quicker. Yesterday he’d practiced until he was so drenched in sweat that it'd dripped down his calves and into the plush carpet. And then he'd reused the cold bath water from the day before, having not even opened his doors to the maids. (He would have to soon enough, if he wanted clean bath water. Or he might just stop bathing entirely.)

He'd also spent time trying to read books, though for some reason he found himself unable to sit still and immerse himself in a story. So instead he'd used them for firewood (the maids hadn't been able to restock on that either, and his rooms had a definite chill to them. He'd started sorting his books into categories of _burnable_ , _unburnable_ , and _only if you haven't starved to death yet_ ). It was true, he'd been much without food these past three days, unless you counted the variety of chocolates he'd always kept in his bedside table. (And he wasn't counting them. Mainly because the numbers were starting to dwindle, and counting them meant acknowledging the fact that he very well might starve to death in here, all because his brain had betrayed him in a moment of weakness.)

He'd attempted to read past letters of Phil's to make him feel better, though he probably should've had the foresight to realize it would only make him feel worse. After getting merely two paragraphs into one letter, he'd thrown the paper into the fire, watching as it turned brown and curled upwards. And then his heart had wrenched and tears had been drawn inexplicably to his eyes, and he'd dived to the carpet and thrusted his hand into the fire, crying out as he managed to save the mostly burned but partially salvageable letter. (He'd used his right hand to practice with his sword today—his left was still covered in painful blisters.)

More than anything, Dan wished to ride Alamo. Nothing got his mind off things like riding, and he knew if he could just feel the wind in his hair and his horse beneath him that he'd feel better, at least for the time being. But he also knew that it was likely Phil would follow him again, just like he had the last time Dan had sulked in his rooms for a few days. Except this time it was worse—this time the thought of seeing Phil left him feeling sick. Though he'd been trying to keep his mind off Phil as best he could, it was evident that he was failing. Phil lived in all the little cracks of his mind, slipping through and invading his every waking moment and leaving him unable to stop _thinking_  about him.

Phil didn't love him. Dan knew that. He knew that and yet he was unable to stop feeling wretched that he didn't, unable to stop filling with warmth as his mind betrayed him and he dreamed of warmth and Phil. He just wanted to stop thinking about him.

Without much else to do, Dan tried to clean out his closet. He tried to get rid of everything that reminded him of Phil, throwing his clothes angrily to the ground and kicking them the to back of his closet. But then he was left with barely any clothes, and he really did love wearing capes—he didn't want to get rid of those!

Resigned, Dan went about picking up his clothes and doing his best to hang them back up again, wincing at the sudden lopsided and ugly looking clothing. No, he really was no match for the maids when it came to these kinds of things.

Slowly, time slugged past Dan as he sulked about in his rooms, a melancholy cloud following his every step, unable to abandon him. Mostly, Dan ended up laying on his bed and wishing time away. He wished for many things, actually. And then he didn't wish for anything at all.

\--

"Your Highness," Alfonzo said with a sigh. Dan had spent a lot of time looking forward to conversing with Alfonzo and Bentley again, which had been his main highlight of the previous day. He'd even managed to put it off for a while, wanting to savor it—he'd ignored Alfonzo calling his name for nearly ten minutes.

"Good morning," Dan said pleasantly. He blinked and rubbed his eyes and the room flickered slightly in his vision. The door was the only thing keeping him standing, and even then his legs were shaking. He was starting to wish he'd rationed his chocolates better, but he couldn't help the fact that he'd eaten the last one the day before. His stomach was painfully empty, but sleep sounded just as appealing as a large meal did.

"This can't continue, Prince," Bentley said. Dan scoffed.

"I can do this forever," he lied. He closed his eyes as he rested his head back against the door.

"No you can't."

Dan froze, the blood draining out of his face and goosebumps rising all along his body. He didn't move, determined to stay utterly silent. Maybe if he stayed quiet enough Phil would think he had left. Or died.

"I know you're there, Dan," Phil said easily, and Dan cursed internally. Damn his seemingly psychic ability!

"I'm quite occupied right now," Dan made himself say. He felt like he was talking through sand. "I'm afraid I can't see you."

Phil sighed. Not a sigh of defeat, the one he should’ve been making when refused entry to Dan's rooms. And it wasn't a sigh of annoyance either, annoyance that he wouldn't he wasn't allowed in. No, it was the sigh someone made when their time was being wasted.

"Let me in," he said easily. "Or I'll tell your guards why you don't want to."

Dan gasped. That was evil!

What was worse, actually having to interact with Phil, the man he was in love with who _knew_  he was in love with him, or having Phil tell his guards not only that he was gay, but that he had the hots for him, another prince? Dan couldn't believe he had fallen in love with this man!

"You wouldn't," Dan whispered. His face was flaming and there wasn't even anyone around to see it.

“Want to bet?"

"Fuck!" Dan yelled, and he slammed his fist back against the door. He had to take a few deep, steadying breaths to prepare himself. Just the thought of having to look Phil in the face made him want to cry. It wasn't just that he didn't want to do this, he was pretty sure that he _couldn't_  do this.

"Fine!" Dan finally snapped, and he stepped away from the door as his guards sighed in relief. The handle turned slowly, and Dan mentally pulled shutters down behind his eyes. He didn't have to have any emotions, much less _show_  them. He could just put on his mask, he could just do what had always been easy for him.

He stared steadily at the door as it opened and Phil stepped through, carrying a tray laden with food of all kinds and various drinks, glasses of water and juice and something that was fizzing slightly (Dan suspected it was some sort or medicine). _Fuck_ , he thought. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_! He was clutching onto his inner blinds with both hands now, struggling to keep it held down as it threatened to fly up, to let his emotions pour forth.

"Good morning," Dan said stiffly. Phil raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'd appreciate it if you stopped avoiding me," he said plainly, without any pretenses. He placed the tray down on a nearby table, and Dan followed it with his eyes before looking at Phil again.

"I wasn't," he lied. He debated offering up some explanation but ended up saying nothing at all. It was obvious Phil didn't believe him anyway.

"Dan," Phil said firmly. "I don't mind if you lo—"

"AH!" Dan said loudly, speaking over Phil and plugging his ears shut. It was childish and ridiculous but he didn't care—he wasn't hearing it. He already felt hot and embarrassed all over, hearing Phil bring up the topic of Dan loving him wasn't going to help at all.

"Seriously," Phil said. "Just because you l—"

" _Shh_!" Dan slapped his hands over his ears again, having been lax in letting them return to his sides. Phil looked as amused as he did concerned. "Don't say it," Dan pleaded. Phil nodded slowly in understanding, and Dan lowered his hands cautiously, prepared to cover his ears again.

"Okay," Phil said. "I brought you food."

"Thanks," Dan said. There was a long pause, during which they both stared at each other. Dan blushed. And then he hated himself. "You can go now," he added.

Phil glared at him. "I'm not leaving."

"Fine," Dan said. He walked to the desk, standing as far away from Phil as he could while reaching out to grab the tray, and turned around and carried it into his living room. He plopped it onto the ground and, uncaring about manners or company, started stuffing his face. He barely registered all he was eating, savory meats and sweet bread and sugary fruit. He didn't care what he was putting in his face, only that it was making its way into his stomach. He chugged water and orange juice and apple juice between bites, barely stopping to breathe. He even ventured a few tentative sips from the fizzing drink, before deeming it safe and chugging that as well.

He didn't look at Phil once during this, though he was aware of him standing against the doorway, his arms crossed and his expression probably amused. Dan wasn't going to find out. Finding out meant _looking_  at him.

Once Dan had finished all the food, scraping the last of the crumbs up with his fork, he stood up and remained staring at the floor.

"Well," he said into the sudden silence. "I'm exhausted!" he yawned exaggeratedly, before turning towards his bedroom.

"Dan," Phil said softly, and Dan heard him shuffle a step closer. He tensed. "Don't you want to talk about this?"

"Absolutely not," Dan said without hesitation.

Phil sighed. "I want you to stop avoiding me."

"Okay. Let's go riding tomorrow."

"Dan."

"What?"

"You know I can't keep up with you. You _know_  we won't be able to talk," Phil said in annoyance. Dan shrugged. Obviously. That was why he wanted to go riding.

"Stop avoiding me," Phil said quietly, and Dan heard him step forward again. What he wasn't expecting was to be touched. Phil's hands settled on his shoulders simultaneously, and Dan flinched so violently it was a miracle Phil managed to hold on. His thumbs pressed subtly into Dan's shoulders, slowly rubbing the stiffness out of them. "You don't need to be embarrassed. You don't need to be upset."

"Stop touching me," Dan whispered. He couldn't help it. He couldn't help it that he just wanted _more_. How was he supposed to weather Phil touching his shoulders when he'd rather be wrapped up in his arms? When he'd rather be kissing him?

Obediently, Phil pulled his hands away, and Dan let his shoulders slump.

"I'm going to take a nap," he said slowly, before taking a step towards his bedroom. And then he swayed, the world twisting and turning violently on its axis. Was this what he got for barely eating for three days? He tried to take another step, but the floor felt like it was rocking beneath his feet. Were they having an earthquake?

Dan managed to reach out and rest his hand on a dresser, clinging to it as hard as he could as the world swayed. His limbs felt like rocks hanging from his body, and they wouldn't cooperate when he told them to move. His vision was swimming. Was he underwater? Maybe he'd drowned himself after telling Phil he loved him—it'd been an embarrassing affair, after all.

Pain shot through Dan's head, and he realized that he was breathing. _You can't breathe underwater_ , he thought. And then he laughed.

"You poisoned me?" he said incredulously, and laughed again. It was funny. "Were you so unsettled by my having feelings for you? You had to _kill_  me?"

"Dan? What?"

Except Phil's voice really _was_  underwater. Dan was sure of it. Why else would it sound all quiet and thick and... blubby?

"Dan? _Dan_?”

Dan let his head hang forward, felt his body sinking to the ground.

"Can't believe it," Dan said thickly. "I fell in love with you and you killed me."

With that, the world went abruptly black. Dan thought he head something, a voice, maybe, but soon it was quiet.

\--

"...for a while."

"A while?"

"Yes... the king.... and... said..."

"Curious."

"Very."

Dan groaned, and the voices immediately went silent. He'd only been able to catch snatches, they were talking to quickly for him to understand. Did people always talk that fast?

"Is he awake?"

"Might be. He's been making noises for the past few days now."

"I still can't believe he's alive. How'd you do it?"

"I didn't," the first voice admitted. "We found the poison used, but the wrong dose was administered. Not enough to kill, but enough to seriously maim."

"Do you think it was on purpose?"

"Could be. But sometimes killers make mistakes, whether because they're moving too quickly, or because their morals make them. Sometimes they make mistakes subconsciously, their bodies choosing for them what their minds can't."

"We're lucky he survived," the second voice lamented. "Can you imagine not having the prince around?"

A pause. "It'd be quiet," the first voice said sadly.

"It's hard to believe his best friend did this."

"It's usually those closest to the victim that commit the crime."

"I know. But his _best friend_..."

Dan groaned. Were they talking about _him_? But then that would mean... they couldn't be suggesting _Phil_  tried to kill him?

Suddenly, memories came rushing back—so fast that it made his head throb in protest. He remembered the pain, and his rooms swimming and swaying around him. He remembered accusing Phil of trying to kill him. And then he remembered Phil massaging his shoulders, Phil demanding that he stop avoiding him, Phil bringing him food. Yes, poisoned food, but Phil couldn't have possibly done that. Didn't it make more sense that it was someone else, someone with access to the kitchens, to the food preparation?

Plus, someone else was already out to kill Dan, as he knew from the past few days of revelations. He'd already come to the conclusion that it wasn't Phil—he wasn't ready to turn back on that decision so soon. If Phil _really_  wanted him dead, he could've just left him alone and the real assassin would've accomplished it soon enough. Or Dan would've accidentally starved himself to death.

No, if Phil wanted him dead, he wouldn't have bothered with bringing him food. He wouldn't have bothered with trying to win back his company.

Dan had been embarrassed and delusional and poison-ridden when he'd accused Phil of poisoning him, the only other person in the room. It was logical that that's where his addled thought process would've gone. But he wasn't in that same mindset anymore, and he knew better now.

"It wasn't Phil," Dan announced to the room. His throat burned and pain scorched through his lungs; talking was clearly not something to be done. Dan pried his eyes open, and the light from the torches along the walls made him wince. A groan escaped him involuntarily.

"You know who it was, Your Highness?" Dan forced himself to open his eyes again. Before him stood the royal doctor. He was always on call for the King, more skilled than the simple nurses they had living in the castle. There was another man as well, who Dan recognized as another doctor, this one held in less esteem. He lived in the castle the majority of the time.

"Not Phil," Dan whispered. Even that sent pain searing through him, and he whined quietly. The doctor noticed, immediately retrieving some sort of vial and pouring it down Dan's throat. He could breathe much easier after that.

“And why do you think that, Prince?” the other, assistant doctor said. Dan thought his name might’ve been something like Walter. Doctor Walter.

“No one’s so idiotic as to bring the very food they’ve poisoned. It’s much more likely that Prince Philip asked for a tray to bring me, and someone in the kitchens took the opportunity to poison it. Not only would they be killing me, they’d also be shifting the blame to another target. It’s too obvious, if you ask me.”

“That does make quite a lot of sense,” the first doctor said quietly. “If only you could stand for him in the trial.”

“Trial?” Dan asked.

“It’s happening right now,” the doctor responded. “You’ve been out for a good two days, and during that time the Prince of Leona was taken into custody. He’s standing trial for attempted murder.” He said this calmly, as if he wasn’t delivering the worst possible news he could’ve been.

“What?” Dan whispered. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His lungs had rebelled against the thought of Phil losing his life and in return were trying to kill Dan as well, as if there weren’t already assassins trying to accomplish that.

“I have to go,” Dan said abruptly, and without waiting for a response, used his arms to push himself off the table and onto the floor. He immediately collapsed. Dan realized he couldn’t feel his legs.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option, Your Highness,” the doctor informed. “The poison is still making its way out of your system; you’re currently paralyzed from the waist down.”

“No,” Dan moaned. “ _No_. I need to go to the trial!”

“Perhaps someone else will point out what you have,” Walter said calmly, in a voice that Dan knew was meant to persuade him to listen and settle down. Dan would do no such thing.

“My father won’t listen,” Dan argued pointlessly. “He’s paranoid—he’s been convinced it was Phil this whole time!”

“Whole time…?”

“Guards!” Dan yelled, knowing that wherever he was, they were usually situated nearby. And he was right. The doors of the room burst open, and Alfonzo and Bentley stared at him urgently. “Take me to the trial.”

“We can’t,” Alfonzo informed.

“Why not?”

“King’s orders,” Bentley said, looking as upset as Dan felt. “You’re not to leave until you’re fully healed.” Dan felt like the world was being pulled out from under his feet, the carpet yanked again and again until he couldn’t even hope to stand up. He _had_  to go! He had to save Phil, no one else would!

“Please,” Dan said finally. He knew the King’s orders were stronger than his, that his words were final, were _law_. But Dan was desperate. If he didn’t get there in time, it might be too late for Phil. And the last thing Dan had ever said to him… he’d _accused_  him of trying to kill his best friend, the very one he’d been trying to save. “ _Please_. Disobey his orders, I beg you.”

“Your Highness…”

“ _Please_ ,” Dan whispered. He could feel the tears spilling down his cheeks, though he did nothing to stop them. Normally, the thought of crying in front of anyone would have left him feeling embarrassed, and yet here he was, crying openly in front of four people. “I’ll do anything.”

“Prince,” Bentley said wearily. “We’ll lose our jobs.”

“Phil will lose his _life_!” Dan cried. “Do you think I’ll ever be happy again?” Dan saw when it clicked in their minds. Without Phil, he’d be angry and sullen all the time. He’d be the person that he always was when Phil wasn’t around, except it’d be worse, because he wouldn’t even be getting letters from him. Phil would be _gone_ , and realistically, Dan would be too.

“Okay,” Alfonzo said finally. “I’ll take you.” Bentley nodded his agreement. Dan could’ve sobbed in relief. He scrubbed the tears off his face instead.

“You’ll have to carry me,” he informed, already lifting his arms to be wrapped around their shoulders. “I can’t feel my legs, you see.”

—

“…can now vote on whether the accused will be found guilty of all charges, including attempted murder of our Prince, and consequently hanged, or innocent, and consequently freed of all charges. Majority rules. All that find the accused guilty, raise—”

“Wait!” Dan cried, clinging tightly onto Alfonzo and Bentley, having made them start running a while back. The infirmary was on the complete opposite side of the castle from the court his father had chosen to hold the trial in, which Dan knew was on purpose. He’d tried to obstruct Dan in every way he could.

His cry echoed loudly around the hall, and hundreds of heads turned to face him. Indistinct chatter filled the room as they realized who had spoken, and the voices steadily rose until the judge called for order. Dan’s father was sat beside the judge, looking completely impassive.

“Are you here to hold witness against the Prince of Leona?” the judge questioned, and the audience waited anxiously. He could feel the emotion in the room, the vitriolic atmosphere aimed at Phil, the person who supposedly tried to murder their Prince, and in a coward’s way as well.

“No,” Dan said loudly. “I stand with the Prince of Leona.” Again, voices filled the room, full of surprise and confusion.

“He’s been brainwashed!” someone cried.

“The poison’s addled his mind!” another yelled.

“Order!” The judge. “Speak, Prince Daniel.”

Dan spared a single glance at Phil, who was sat in the middle of the room. The chair was chained to the floor, and he was chained to the chair with heavy irons. He looked tired and scared and sorrowful, but he was also looking at Dan with wide, surprised eyes. He hadn’t expected him to show up. Or he hadn’t expected him to side with him. Either way, he was an idiot. It’d only been a few days since Dan had told him he loved him, didn’t he realize that most people didn’t like seeing the people they loved die?

“Prince Philip of Leona couldn’t have attempted to murder me,” Dan said loudly. He knew what he had to say, had been planning it ever since Bentley and Alfonzo had agreed to take him here. He couldn’t just tell the court what he’d told his doctors. It was merely speculation and didn’t carry any solid proof, which he knew his father, if not the judge, would be quick to point out. No, Dan had to be two steps ahead of them, had to say something that would prove it wasn’t Phil who had done it.

“For I poisoned myself.”

The court went wild. People yelled and cried out, and Dan simply stood there and waited. The judge slammed his gavel several times, his voice calling for order lost among those of the audience members. When silence was finally achieved once more, Dan continued.

“I don’t know much about poison; I’ve never been very good at my studies. My old teachers can tell you that,” Dan said easily. It would be simple for his teachers to be called to the stand to prove this correct, seeing as they were sitting in the audience. “I got the poison through mail orders, disguised as letters.” No one could prove this wrong, as he was known for sending frequent letters. The court needn’t know that the only person he ever sent letters to was Phil, and that he hadn’t sent one in the entire time Phil had been here.

“But why would you poison yourself, Prince?”

“Phil knows as well as I do why I did it—I suspect he would’ve tried to stop me if he’d realized. He only hasn’t told the court out of respect for me and my privacy,” Dan said boldly. This part of the plan depended on the fact that Phil likely wouldn’t have said anything about their time in the lake, which was what Dan was planning to take advantage of.

“Five nights ago, I revealed to the Prince of Leona that I was gay.” Expecting the audience to yell again, Dan felt slightly unbalanced when the hall stayed completely silent. He forged ahead anyway. “I knew that this fact about myself was something likely to be looked down upon by my father—every Prince is expected to marry and have children to continue their bloodline. My… preferences… are not an option.”

Still, silence. “Prince Philip tried to remind me of my duties, but I was upset. I locked myself in my quarters for three days.” Dan was aware of Alfonzo and Bentley holding him up. His arms were wrapped around their shoulders, and their arms around his waist. He’d almost expected them to draw away from his once he’d announced he was gay, embarrassed or weirded out to be touching him. For all they knew, this was the complete truth. Still, he couldn’t help being grateful when they didn’t recoil from him, that they didn’t seem bothered at all.

God, he’d just come out to the entire court! Including his father! Even if both he and Phil lived through this, he couldn’t imagine that his father would let that continue after this. His only son, gay and unwilling to marry a girl.

“Without food or drink in my rooms, I was unable to enact my poison. When Prince Philip arrived, however, I took my chance. He’d been worried about me and brought me a meal. Having always been bad at my studies, I didn’t realize that I wasn’t using a big enough dose. And in my distraught state, I also didn’t realize that the obvious conclusion of my actions would be that it was Prince Philip who tried to poison me, which, quite obviously, it wasn’t.”

“Is that all, Prince Daniel?” the judge asked.

“Yes.”

“In that case, let majority rule determine Prince Philip of Leona’s sentence. If voted guilty, the accused shall be hanged; innocent, requited. Those in favor of guilty, raise your hand.”

Dan held his breath. And held it. And held it. And no hands went up. He suspected that there were probably a few out there that didn’t believe him, but raising their hands in an almost unanimous court was preposterous and embarrassing—plus, it’d be outright disagreeing with their own prince.

“Those who believed the accused innocent.”

Dan grinned as hands shot into the air, and then the gavel was slammed and Phil was pronounced innocent. Someone came forward and released his chains, and Dan watched out of the corner of his eye as Phil rubbed his wrists and thanked the man. Of course Phil would _thank_  someone for being let out of bonds.

The audience was released, then, and nobles and court members came streaming through the floor towards the doors. Many stopped by Dan and his guards on the way out.

“Does this mean you’ll be courting men now?” one boy asked hopefully. Dan just widened his eyes.

“Uh—I don’t know,” he finally admitted. The boy winked, and Dan felt heat rise to his cheeks as he walked away. Had he just been _flirted_  with?

“I knew there couldn’t have been something wrong with my daughter,” one man said pleasantly to Dan, and he nodded uncertainly. He assumed that he’d courted the man’s daughter at one point, and he couldn’t help wondering if the man was implying there was something wrong with him instead.

Someone else thanked him for the truth, and yet others said kind things as well. One person even told him, “You could always adopt, Your Highness.” No one seemed outraged at the fact that he was gay, though it was true that he had yet to talk to his father.

He looked around for Phil, though it appeared that he’d been led out of the hall at some point, probably back to his own rooms. Dan hoped that his guards were standing imposingly outside his rooms, guarding him as stubbornly as they had from Dan.

Once the court was empty, Dan looked warily towards his father. He was beginning to feel a tingling in his legs, which he hoped meant he would be able to feel them again soon.

“You disobeyed my orders,” his father said, and Dan realized he wasn’t talking to him. He was talking to his guards. Normally, they would bow when in presence of the King, but they were currently helping Dan stand.

“I made them, Father,” Dan said. “I hope you’ll forgive them. I knew that Phil was going to be unjustly tried, as he’s much too honorable to tell the truth that would’ve cleared his name.”

“Yes,” his father said slowly. “The truth that you’re a homosexual.”

Dan felt himself stiffen at that, and he was aware that Alfonzo and Bentley probably felt it as well. It sounded like something bad coming out of his father’s mouth, and if Dan could use his legs, he possibly would’ve run away.

Dan said nothing, not knowing what he was expected to say. Technically, suicide was a crime, and Dan had just told the entire court that he’d attempted it. _Technically_ , he could be tried for trying to commit such a crime. What if his father put him on trial for that? Simply to get rid of his gay son?

“I hope you realize you’re still expected to marry and have children. I don’t care what sodomy you get up to otherwise.”

Dan flushed violently, and hurt made itself known inside his stomach. It’d been foolish, but… he’d wanted his father to just accept it. A small part of him had hoped that his father would say it was okay, would tell him that he could marry a boy. Could adopt. Instead, he’d been told to marry a woman he would never love, and sleep with men on the side. He wanted to protest, he wanted to _argue_ , but he felt small and useless in front of his father.

“I—yes, Father,” he said finally. His arms were shaking where they were wrapped around his guards, and very subtly, Bentley squeezed his hip comfortingly where his hand was rested. “Of course.”

“Very well. You may go.” Dan stared at his father a moment longer, unable to help thinking that there was something in his face suggesting he knew more. Dan disregarded it and let his guards carry him from the hall. He felt completely overwhelmed and exhausted, and above all, embarrassed that he couldn’t even walk on his own.

“That was a very brave thing you did, Prince,” Alfonzo said quietly a few minutes later as they walked down the corridor.

“Or a very dumb thing,” Dan sighed. “I could be tried for attempting suicide.”

“Your father would be put in a very bad public image if he tried his own son for that,” Alfonzo said wisely.

“Although now that you lied for Phil, no one will be on the lookout for the real assassin,” Bentley input.

“I know,” Dan said. He’d thought about that too, but decided it was worth the risk. After all, he’d survived all these assassination attempt so far. Either it was a very unskilled assassin, or he was a very skilled death-avoider.

Dan was surprised when they passed a window, realizing that it was night. The trial must’ve started some time after dinner, and continued for a lot longer.

“Thank you for disobeying your orders for me,” Dan said later, as they got closer to his rooms. It was quite a walk, to get from the court to his quarters, and this time they were walking instead of running frantically.

“We wanted to save Prince Philip as well,” Bentley said easily. And he squeezed Dan’s hip again.

“I hope you don’t get fired,” Dan admitted. “I really like you guys, actually.”

“Alright, I think he’s suffering from exhaustion,” Alfonzo said. “Should I carry him or you?”

“What? I’m serious!” Dan argued, and Bentley laughed, though Alfonzo looked genuinely surprised.

“We hope we don’t get fired too.”

“You’ll know tomorrow,” Alfonzo said. It was true. If they weren’t guarding his rooms tomorrow morning, then Dan would have to assume the worst.

When they arrived at his rooms, Lin and Elaine were already standing there guarding the door. Dan wondered if they’d heard the news about the trial already. He suspected it would be the gossip of the castle tomorrow, and Dan couldn’t really run around and demand that everyone stop gossiping about him—it just wasn’t possible.

“Your Highness!” Lin greeted excitedly, as Dan appeared with Alfonzo and Bentley. “I’m glad to see that you’re doing alright.”

“You too,” Dan said, unsure how he should really reply to that anyway.

“Prince Philip is in your rooms,” Elaine informed. Dan resisted the urge to slam his face against the door. It seemed he was always going to have to deal with Phil’s persistence, apparently. Couldn’t a man save his best friend (and love) from certain death and then go back to avoiding him without any disruptions?

“Of course he is,” he sighed.

“Er…” Bentley said. “Are you… allowed to be alone with him in your rooms? Now that you’re gay?”

Dan flushed and raised his chin as imperiously as he could when depending on two much taller and broader men to carry him. “I’ve always been gay!” he insisted. “And you heard my father. I’m allowed to commit sodomy on the side,” he said darkly. “Help me into my rooms and then you’re dismissed.”

With that, the three of them were squeezing past Lin and Elaine, who hurriedly stepped out of the way to let them through. Alfonzo and Bentley carried Dan to his bedroom, where Phil was seated on the bed, flicking through one of Dan’s books (it must’ve been in the _unburnable_  pile). Dan blushed at the implication Phil sitting on his bed caused, and he closed his eyes and forced himself to breath as he wondered what Alfonzo and Bentley thought. They were about to set him on his bed and leave him with Phil, knowing Dan was gay. What could they possibly be thinking?

“You’re here!” Phil said brightly, eagerly flipping the book shut and scrambling off the bed, as if to offer a third helping hand with commuting Dan’s limp body. Luckily, he was starting to be able to feel his toes, which hopefully indicated having the ability to walk again soon.

“And so are you,” Dan muttered. His guards set him on the end of his bed before bidding him goodnight and leaving his rooms. Dan sighed and flopped back against his bed, exhausted.

“Are you okay?” Phil asked then, and Dan felt the bed dip under his weight. His eyes remained shut.

“Of course I am,” he said. “I wasn’t the one who had to sit in a trial and think they were going to be killed at the end of it for hours.”

“No, but you did tell everyone you were gay,” Phil said lightly. Dan grimaced. He kind of wanted to forget that. “You saved me.”

“Of course.”

“But you thought I poisoned you,” Phil pointed out.

“Only when my vision was swimming and I thought I was dying.”

“You _were_  dying.”

“But I lived.”

“We can’t let our guard down,” Phil said. “The real assassin’s still out there.”

“Maybe,” Dan said. “Or maybe now they’ll give up. They’ve failed this many times already—if I were them I’d feel embarrassed by now.”

Phil laughed and Dan had to fight to keep his lips from turning up into a smile. He loved Phil’s laugh, soft and warm and wonderful. He wanted Phil to laugh all the time.

“Let’s go to bed,” Phil suggested, and Dan finally opened his eyes.

“You’re sleeping here?” he said incredulously.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Phil questioned, looking for all the world like he was completely serious.

“Because I’m gay,” Dan said. And then, despite the blush already prominent on his cheeks, “and because I love you.”

Phil just rolled his eyes. “Like that’s gonna change anything.”

With that, he helped Dan shift up the bed without the use of his legs, and retrieved a comfortable night shirt for him while Dan struggled out of his trousers. Soon enough, they were both situated, and Dan scooted to the side of the bed, as far away from Phil as he could be. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Phil huffed in annoyance a few minutes later, and he grabbed Dan’s arm and dragged him over easily, until Dan was not only facing him but pressed against him, his cheek resting on Phil’s chest. Dan squeaked at one point during the whole ordeal, and now he was touching Phil, his heart thundering in his chest.

“What’d you do that for?” Dan whispered.

“We always end up cuddling anyway,” Phil said gruffly. “I didn’t want you to freak out when you woke up in the morning and realized it’d happened.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Dan asked. He was holding himself incredibly stiffly, trying to make himself touch Phil as little and as lightly as possible, despite the fact that he was pressed up against him and laying partially on top of him.

Phil’s hand came up and buried itself in his hair then, and Dan had to clamp down on a moan that threatened to escape. Phil’s hand was in his _hair_. Didn’t he realize how great it felt to have his hair played with?

“You know, you’re really not making it any easier for me to stop being in love with you,” Dan admitted a few minutes later, quietly enough that Phil could pretend to have not heard. Phil chuckled, his chest rising and falling quickly beneath Dan’s cheek. He said nothing though, and Dan closed his eyes and waited for himself to fall asleep, Phil’s body soft and warm against his.


	12. Chapter 12

_Is this normal?_  Dan thought to himself. The obvious answer was _no_. He couldn't think of a single person who'd been in a situation even close to this one, and the only explanation for that was that this _wasn't_  normal. But then, how could Phil so easily act as if it was?

Most people didn't fall in love with their best friends, and when they did, they didn't _tell_  them like some masochistic fool. And even if they did tell them, their friends didn't proceed to act as if the entire thing was no big deal! Right?

This was what Dan was telling himself in an attempt to distract himself from his obvious problem. It was only that Phil was still very much asleep, and Dan was very, very awake. The sun was filtering softly through the curtains of his room, and his sheets were soft and silky against his skin. More attention-vying than either of these things, however, was the very obvious problem he had... erm... _downstairs_.

Obviously, this was the worst possible thing that could have happen to him. Somehow, for some reason, Phil wasn't utterly disgusted or uncomfortable around Dan despite his being in love with him. Still, Dan had a small feeling that this situation wasn't something he'd be able to overlook. This really would weird him out, and it was in Dan’s best interest to get as far away from his as possible.

It was horrible timing, as well. Dan had definitely woken up hard before, but he’d always ignored it, and in the back of his mind he’d always hoped that he’d never wake up that way when he was sharing a bed with Phil. Obviously, the universe and his very own body hated him, and Dan was left lying there very still and very silent.

It wasn’t helping at all that neither of them had managed to stay properly on their own sides of the bed. This might’ve been due to the fact that before they’d even fallen asleep they’d been wrapped up in each other’s arms (thanks to Phil) and had probably spent a much longer amount of the night tossing and turning overtop of one another. Now, Dan was laying flat on his back while Phil was curling in towards him, one of his legs thrown over Dan’s and his hand resting on his lower stomach.

Mainly, it was the hand that was causing Dan the most trouble. Just remembering that it was there, which pretty much meant with every single breath, left him red-faced and anxious. Phil’s hand was _so close_  to his arousal. He swallowed thickly, trying to force the image of Phil touching him out of his mind. It was inappropriate and did absolutely nothing to aid Dan in making his erection go down.

As he laid there, Phil made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, before letting out a long sigh and bending his head closer to Dan. As he did so, his hand managed to slip another few inches down, and Dan felt his eyes widen considerably. He held his breath in lieu of obtaining oxygen, worried that the up and down motion of his stomach with every breath would accidentally dislodge Phil’s hand and send it cascading towards his cock, and he couldn’t have that. Not only because it’d be wildly inappropriate, but also because the mere thought of Phil touching him had him so close to coming that even Phil’s knuckle brushing against him would probably be enough to send him over the edge.

“Are you awake?” Phil whispered suddenly. Dan’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t know why he did it, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t want to have to interact with Phil just yet, to send him scooting over to the other side of the bed. Though that was probably what he _should_  want, seeing as he still ran the risk of Phil finding out he had a raging hard-on. Still, if Dan was asleep when he had it, then it wasn’t really his fault, was it?

Dan continued to breath easily, bracing himself for the inevitable moment when Phil rolled away from him, but it didn’t come. Instead Phil rested his cheek back against the bed with a tiny sigh, and he scooted even closer, until his forehead was pressed against Dan’s arm and his fingers were clutching the thin material of Dan’s t-shirt.

Unable to believe his luck, Dan stayed utterly silent. Phil was probably too comfortable to move, but it only continued to work out for Dan—as long as he didn’t move his hand, that is.

Inevitably, Dan’s luck _did_  run out. At one point, maybe ten minutes later, Phil shifted again, but this time his hand really did shift down, until his knuckles were brushing up _against_  Dan’s cock. He then had to bite his tongue quite painfully to avoid showing any outward reaction.

He felt Phil stiffen slightly against him, probably in disgust. Dan waited for the resulting flinch away from him, for him to cringe or immediately shift away, but he didn’t. Instead he stayed exactly where he was, his knuckles pressed lightly against Dan. Perhaps he felt too awkward, or was afraid that he’d wake Dan up by moving away, and then they’d both be in the awkward situation. Or maybe he didn’t necessarily realize what he was touching.

Either way, the backs of his fingers were _touching_  Dan, and there was no way he was going to be able to recover from this. He could feel his erection refusing the very thought of going down, but he held himself still and prayed that it did anyway.

Phil’s fingers were completely distracting. They were warm against Dan’s skin, their heat discernible through the thin material of the silk trousers Dan was wearing.

Occasionally, one of Phil’s fingers might twitch against him. It was probably some involuntary movement, or Phil might’ve fallen back to sleep, but Dan definitely couldn’t ignore it when he was being barely, barely stimulated about once every two minutes. A tiny, barely firmer press of a knuckle, though Dan’s heart was still thundering painfully because of it.

Unable to bear it any longer, Dan decided he was going to have to put an end to this. He made a small “waking up” noise in the back of his throat (and he hoped Phil didn’t think it was a moan) before he stretched easily, tilting his head to the side and inhaling deeply through his nose. As he did this, Phil’s hand carefully moved away from his hips and instead removed itself from his body completely, until it was rested beside Dan instead.

Dan opened his eyes slowly, feigning sleep. Maybe Phil really hadn’t noticed his… problem?

  
“Morning,” Phil grunted. He was acting as if he had just woken up too, though his eyes, very, very faintly, looked expectant. That alone forced Dan to acknowledge the truth that Phil had realized what it was he’d been touching. Again, he’d probably felt too awkward to move his hand, or perhaps had thought he’d wake Dan up if he did so, which Dan could understand feeling embarrassed about. It perfectly explained why he’d finally moved it when Dan had started to “wake up”.

“Good morning,” Dan replied, and he let the blush that he’d been fighting this whole time finally rise to his cheeks. He knew it was what Phil was expecting. Normally, if Dan were to wake up with an erection, embarrassment would follow and he would blush. Obviously, it was what Phil was expecting, and Dan could see the understanding in his eyes as he stared at Dan’s face.

“Want to go get breakfast?” Phil suggested.

“Mm,” Dan said noncommittally, before he sat up slowly and carefully faced away from Phil. “Bathroom first,” he muttered.

It took him an embarrassing amount of time for his erection to go down enough for him to actually pee, during which he went about brushing his teeth and washing his face and moisturizing his skin. Once he reemerged, it was to see Cecily leaning against the wall, a tray already set on the bed, piled with enough food for two.

“Cecily,” Dan said, surprised. He almost hadn’t expected anyone to come to his rooms today. Partly because he’d come out and he didn’t know if they were going to feel awkward because of it or not, and partly because he was afraid his father would’ve fired the whole lot of them. Especially Cecily, seeing as she was the one who brought him food most days—she’d be an understandable suspect after all, not that Dan /did/ suspect her. Despite how annoying she could be, especially with her uncanny ability for showing up at the worst of times, he knew that she wasn’t a killer, and that deep down she probably considered him a friend. And he considered her as… a not completely horrendous maidservant.

“Prince Daniel,” Cecily greeted with a polite dip of her head. “A servant has already tested all of your food—no poison today.”

“Well that’s great news,” Dan remarked. After all, a day not poisoned was a good day! Or at least, that was how it was starting to look around here.

“What if it had been poisoned?” Phil said worriedly. “What would happen to the servant?”

“They’d be poisoned,” Cecily explained, as if to a child. Phil frowned.

“That’s not fair,” he said sadly.

“You’d rather it be His Highness?” Cecily said incredulously. “Most assassins wouldn’t attempt to kill in the same way twice, anyway,” she continued. “And they’re definitely less likely to try it if they know the food’s being tested—that’s just a waste of poison.”

“I’d hate for them to waste their expensive poison,” Dan said cheerfully, before picking up a raspberry and popping it into his mouth. Cecily laughed.

“It’s good to see you, Your Highness,” she said softly. “It was inspiring, what you said in the court yesterday.”

“I have been known to inspire,” Dan said loftily, but he let himself smile at her in return, and she rolled her eyes good-naturedly before she turned to leave the room.

“Enjoy your breakfast,” she called, and Phil shouted a “thank you!” after her.

Dan, ever true to form, waited exactly two seconds after the door shut behind her to sprint across the room and press his ear eagerly against it. After all, he was only doing it to assure that Alfonzo and Bentley were still here.

“Well?” a familiar voice said eagerly, and Dan breathed a silent sigh of relief. Bentley. “Were they… occupied?”

“No,” Cecily answered.

“Did it seem like they’d done anything?” Alfonzo questioned. “Were they acting any differently?”

There was a pause, during which Dan assumed Cecily was thinking. “No,” she said finally, her voice thoughtful. “They were acting exactly the same.”

Dan’s eyes widened as he finally realized what they were implying. Were they debating whether he and Phil had had _sex_? Just because Dan was gay didn’t mean he was going to go and fuck the first man he saw! Even though, if he _were_  going to have the option to have sex with someone, it would be Phil. But that wasn’t the point! They couldn’t just assume that he and Phil were having sex simply because they were having a sleepover. And didn’t they know Dan was the only gay one here?!

Not wanting to hear anymore, Dan retreated back to his bedroom, climbing onto the rumpled sheets to seat himself across from Phil, the tray settled in between them. Phil was currently chewing on a piece of buttered toast.

“Hear anything good?” he questioned.

Dan had to be quick on his feet. “No,” he answered. “They were talking about… taxes.”

 

\--

“En garde!" Phil cried the second Dan stepped into the living room.

“What—no! _Phil_!"

It was too late. Already a wooden sword was being tossed through the air, and Dan snatched it by the handle before it could hit him in the face. He was _tired_  of sparring. It was repetitive and Dan knew he could never beat Phil, which made it pointless. Why should he bother with sword fighting when he wasn't going to get information out of it?

He was quickly pressed into a fast flurry of swords, the wood clacking loudly in the large room as they danced their way around each other.

"What's the point?" Dan complained, as he parried Phil's swing and returned it with his own. "I'll never beat you." He was whining, but he didn't particularly care. He was _tired_.

"Don't you want to get better?" Phil demanded. He tried to swat Dan's arm, a move that had almost always gotten Dan before, but he raised his sword at the last moment and watched it harmfully bounce away.

"Not particularly," Dan admitted, and then he over-exaggeratedly lowered his sword and stretched.

"Raise your sword."

"No."

"Raise it."

" _No_."

"Then I'll just go ahead and attack you anyway," Phil said.

"Go ahead," he said grandly, spreading his arms out invitingly. He even tossed his sword to the ground, letting it clatter onto the hard stone beyond the carpet.

Phil lunged at him, and Dan simply stood there at the blow came to his rib. It hit him swiftly and pain immediately blossomed under its touch.

"Pick up your sword," Phil instructed.

"No."

Again, Phil hit him—this time on the arm. Dan kept a straight face, though he couldn't help inhaling sharply through his nose. The next time Phil swung, Dan stepped neatly out of range. And again, and again, until Dan was dancing—side stepping and jumping out of the way as Phil came at him repeatedly. He was even starting to enjoy the frustrated look on Phil's face, the evidence that what he was doing _did_  have an effect on the other prince. Dan might not have been winning, but he wasn't losing either—Phil couldn't get a hit on him.

That was, until Dan found himself bumping into the wall, suddenly unable to avoid Phil any longer. He'd somehow managed to stop paying attention to his surroundings, to stop noticing where exactly in the room he was, and it was probably due to the fact that Phil looked entirely too attractive when he was annoyed. His lips were pulled into a frown, his eyebrows furrowed, and his jaw jutted out angrily. His hair was pushed up and messy, sticking to his forehead in places with perspiration. Therefore, it was perhaps understandable when Dan found himself pushed into a corner, vulnerable to Phil's blade.

“Why don’t you get your sword?” Phil suggested.

“Why don’t you just hit me?” Dan countered stubbornly. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin—while it looked like he was just continuing with his attitude, he was really trying to protect his body from being jabbed. Each time the sword made contact with his skin it really _did_  hurt, and he could already feel bruises forming in the two places he’d been hit. Still, he wasn’t willing to pick up his sword and actually fight with Phil, especially when the throbbing of his arm and side made him want to hit Phil back, but he knew the angrier he got the sloppier his fighting became, and so the more he was the one who got hit. Either way he was on the losing side, with virtually nothing to gain.

“What are you going to do if you have to fight one day?” Phil demanded. His sword was held ready, leveled across Dan’s chest and easily capable of smacking him with one flick of Phil’s wrist.

“I’ll hire you,” Dan replied. Phil stepped forward quickly, and his wooden sword was pressed against Dan’s neck, his body close— _much too close_ —to Dan’s. He could feel Phil brushing against him, could feel the heat of him, and his sword was forcing Dan to look up even more, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling and away from Phil’s face.

“What if I was the one fighting you?”

“Then you’d be holding a wooden sword and smacking me with every opportunity you got.”

Phil laughed, the sound low and quiet and close to Dan’s ear. Dan felt a shiver crawl up his spine, and he wasn’t able to help the small gasp he made in response. He hoped desperately that Phil hadn’t heard it, and he held himself as still as possible, telling himself over and over to just _stay calm_. He’d been close to Phil a million times in the past. He’d even been pinned to the ground by him before! He should be able to handle something as simple as this. It was embarrassing how controlled his own body and mind were by his feelings for Phil.

God, it was ridiculous. No matter what he did, he felt like his affections for Phil shown clearly through, and he could hardly stop thinking about it. Was he supposed to suspect that it wasn’t constantly on Phil’s mind as well, the fact that Dan was in love with him? Was it completely different being the one who had someone in love with you instead of being the person in love?

“Pick up your sword,” Phil said again.

“No,” Dan said sternly. “It’s pointless. And boring. And I don’t care.”

Phil bared his teeth in what might’ve been a growl if he had less control over his reactions. “You should care,” he argued. “Sword fighting is the staple of every respected prince, you know.”

“Sword fighting is overrated,” Dan argued. “And outdated. And I’m _gay_. I’m probably no longer respected; instead of sword fighting I should—juggle, or something.” Phil raised an eyebrow at that.

“You’re not really insecure over your sexuality, are you?”

Dan blinked. He didn’t really want to be having this conversation. And he _really_  didn’t want to be having it when he was still _pressed against the wall_  by Phil, his body firm and unyielding against Dan’s, the sword a mere distraction between them. “Er…”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know that!” Dan snapped. Except he really /didn’t/. He was still easily distracted by thoughts of being disliked and judged by others simply for his inclinations, though plenty in the courtroom hadn’t seemed bothered by it. But still, a small part of his mind insisted: what would everyone think? What would they think of their prince—not equipped for a proper, loving marriage, for having his own son. No, he was a prince wired for boys, unsuited for women and children (at least, at the prospect of having to make them himself). And sure, his father had insisted he marry anyway, that he overlook his own preferences to do what was “right” for the kingdom, for their family, but everyone would _know_. His little stunt in the courtroom had saved Phil’s life, but it had thrown his secret out in the open and flushed his chance at hiding it from the public at large down the drain.

For a while, he thought he’d be able to stuff his feelings into a place where he could ignore them and pretend to be happy with a pretty woman. Instead, his head was now filled with ideas of proper happiness—of love his father didn’t approve of, no matter how many people had seemed okay with it. But more than those, still, could’ve been hiding their true reactions: their disgust and outrage. And how should he feel then? His whole life he’d grown up with a single purpose: marry a woman, have a son, raise a king. And now the ball had dropped, his sexuality had been revealed (first to him, and now to the entire kingdom), and everyone was supposed to just _accept_  it?

“Stop touching me,” Dan said quietly. Phil sighed softly, but he diligently stepped away, letting Dan move away from the corner of the wall, and letting him finally be free of Phil’s overbearing presence. He’d just opened his mouth to thank Phil, when his sword came whistling through the air and smacked Dan on the side of his thigh. “Fuck!”

Angered, Dan lunged towards Phil, shoving his practice sword to the floor and pushing him backwards. Phil stumbled, letting out an amused snort as he did, and that just made Dan even more annoyed. Phil wasn’t supposed to be _amused_. He was supposed to be… _gah_ , Dan didn’t know! But _he_  was angry, and some small part of him was aware that his frustrations were misplaced, that they were originating from his feelings of unrest and insecurity, but an even bigger part of him was aware that Phil was right here in front of him and that he was resembling something like a punching bag.

Dan lunged forward again, his fist driving hard towards Phil’s stomach, but Phil just stepped neatly out of the way, his expression relaxed and easygoing. Dan positively growled then, feeling something akin to fury pounding through his veins as he flung himself towards Phil again. He swung and punched and rushed at Phil again and again, his temper and annoyance only rising with each easy dodge Phil displayed, the simple coordination of his body, stepping easily out of range and looking pristine and happy as he did so.

Dan could hardly comprehend the ire he was feeling, but he threw himself at Phil again and again, witnessing himself as if from outside his own body as he grew more and more tired, and Phil stayed completely alert.

“Fuck you,” Dan panted, before he swung his foot out in a desperate attempt to kick Phil in the stomach. He loved Phil. He _loved_  him. So then why did he so badly want to hurt him?

His plan immediately backfired. Phil caught his leg and held it against himself, before tugging on it and forcing Dan to hop closer or risk falling. His lip curled up as he tried to tug himself away from the other man, but Phil held fast, raising a disdainful eyebrow at him.

“Are you done yet?”

Dan bared his teeth and _yanked_ , but this only succeeded in making him lose his balance, and Phil had to tug him even closer to keep them both standing. Dan panted against Phil’s cheek, his left leg still held in Phil’s hand, now bent by his hip, and his hands pressed against Phil’s chest in a futile attempt to keep distance between them.

“Let me go,” Dan demanded.

“And let you attack me again?”

“Phil,” Dan whined, and Phil dropped his leg, but he wrapped his arms around Dan instead. And finally Dan let himself just relax. He slumped against Phil and wound his arms around him in return, burying his face against his friend and digging his fingers into his shirt. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly a few moments later, his words muffled in the material of Phil’s shirt.

“For what?”

“Attacking you.”

Phil snorted. “But you couldn’t even land a hit.”

Dan groaned and shoved Phil away, but now he was smiling. And Phil didn’t let himself get shoved very far, as his hands were still latched around Dan’s back.

“Are you done being angry now?”

Dan thought about it. “Yes,” he said.

“Because that’s no way to treat the one you love,” Phil said with a wide grin, and Dan shoved him away with a laugh, even as his face flushed red.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, before turning away and marching towards the bathroom. He couldn’t fight the smile from his face, however, and already he wished that he’d managed to stay in Phil’s arms for longer.

“Where are you going?” Phil asked, his voice closer than it should’ve been, which only meant that Phil was following him.

“Bath.”

“But we didn’t finish sparring,” Phil pointed out. Dan simply slammed the bathroom door shut behind him. Oh, they were definitely done sparring.

—

Dan was starting to think Phil had a problem.

“Phil!” he shrieked, when Phil strolled into the bathroom mere minutes after he had settled himself into the warm water.

“Dan!” Phil imitated in falsetto. Dan glared at him, silently appreciative for the sheer amount of bubbles.

“What are you doing?” Dan demanded. He was pretty sure he’d locked the sturdy wooden door, but then again, Phil seemed to have a way of getting whatever he wanted easily. Dan didn’t doubt that he had some sort of technique for getting through locked doors.

“I need a bath too,” Phil stated.

“So? Go to your rooms and take a bath then,” Dan snapped. Phil sulked.

“That’s too far away,” he complained. “We should just share a bath. We did it all the time as kids!”

Dan just stared at him, his mouth hanging open in a most definitely unattractive way. “Phil,” he said slowly. “I feel like you might possibly be forgetting that I’m in love with you.” By now, Dan had said it much too many times. He’d prefer to stop saying it entirely, actually. But Phil seemed to be in constant need of reminding.

“Of course I’m not,” he scoffed. “Besides, your bath is huge! It isn’t like we’ll be laying on top of each other or anything. Wouldn’t you normally revel at the thought of bathing with the person you’re in love with?”

“Phil!” Dan cried, and he had to force himself to look somewhere else. Every time he brought up the fact that he was in love with Phil, he had to silently and forcefully prepare himself. When _Phil_  brought it up all simple and easy going like that it threw Dan for a loop, and he had to get his bearings all over again.

“So unless you have any real objections…” Phil said slowly, except he was already unbuttoning his trousers. Dan avoided looking at him, instead turning his head to stare at the wall.

“I could be a pervert,” Dan pointed out. “I could molest you the second you got in here.”

“I’m pretty sure a molester wouldn’t take the time to point that out,” Phil said confidently, and then the water was rippling everywhere and Phil was _in the bath with him_. Dan was going to have a heart attack. His face was on _fire_. He was pretty sure he was dying, simply from sharing a bath with Phil. He continued to stare determinedly at the wall, even as Phil settled in opposite him, the water bouncing against all the walls of the tub.

The thing was, his tub wasn’t really _that_  large. It was big enough to fit two people side by side, meaning that with Phil sitting on the opposite side of the bath, his legs were stretched out besides Dan’s while Dan’s were next to him.

“See?” Phil said easily. “This works out perfectly!”

Dan decided to reevaluate his entire opinion of Phil. The only obvious answer was that he _was_  the assassin, and that he knew that he could murder Dan simply by sharing a bath with him. Already his heart was going a million miles an hour and he was overheating. Dan should’ve been more careful, should’ve realized Phil’s ill intentions sooner!

“Yep,” Dan finally answered, his voice a higher pitch than usual. He was still staring at the wall. It was a nice wall. It was the same stone wall Dan saw every-fucking-where else in the castle, but it was nice in the sense that it was distracting Dan from looking at Phil, who was sitting in his bath.

Dan held his breath as Phil’s foot pressed against his thigh. It was a natural movement, due to the fact that they were both laying in a tub full of water and it was practically impossible to stay completely still, though that didn’t prevent Dan from trying.

Dan took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. He simply had to live through one bath—one bath shared with the person he was not only in love with, but _extremely_  sexually attracted to. He could do that. Right?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up that there's smut towards the end ayee

Dan could say with complete certainty that he didn't have a thing for feet. He'd never thought much of them, actually, other than that they were the things he walked on. They were useful, he supposed, seeing as he wouldn't really be able to get around without them.

But now, they seemed so much more than just things he _stood_  on. Now, Phil was touching them, and Dan felt as if they had about a billion more nerves than usual. He'd started casually massaging Dan's feet mere moments ago, as if that was the type of thing to be done when sharing a bath with your best friend. Dan almost felt the need to remind Phil that he was in love with him again, but he wasn't sure he would be able to speak.

He still couldn't quite believe that they were sharing a bath either. He'd do anything for a peek into Phil's mind, to just have a glimpse of what Phil was thinking. Who was so lazy that they'd refuse to go to their own room and take a bath in solitude? But it wasn't like there was some underlying meaning. Dan was just projecting—he was so desperate that he was willing to think something as delusional as Phil having some semblance of feelings for him.

"Why are you doing that?" Dan asked quietly. He was still staring, quite determinedly, at the wall. Not a single time had he looked at Phil, though occasionally he could see him moving out of the corner of his eye. Dan didn't know if he could handle seeing so much of his skin on display.

"Do you want me to stop?" he replied, steadily kneading the arch of Dan's foot. He was an expert masseuse, Dan was sure, because there was no possible other answer for why Dan was coming close to moaning with every movement of his fingers. It was embarrassing (and strange) to say that he was getting turned on from this, and he could only be glad that the water was as high as it was. He supposed it had to do with the fact that Dan would get turned on at the prospect of Phil touching him virtually anywhere. He just liked the feeling of Phil's fingers on his skin, be it Dan's arm or thigh or... foot.

"I guess not," Dan answered. Finally, unable to help it any longer, he looked at Phil, who was already staring steadily at him. Dan glanced away again with a blush. "Did you want me to—reciprocate?" he asked awkwardly. It sounded weirdly as if he was offering something sexual, but really it was just a massage.

"No thanks," Phil said easily. "I'm too ticklish."

And so the massage continued. Dan struggled to get himself under control. He shouldn't be this affected by Phil's hands on his body, and yet all Dan wanted to do was press himself up against Phil from head to toe. He wanted Phil's arms around him, holding him close and tight.

Dan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the porcelain rim of the tub. Phil was in the tub with him. And he was touching him. But at least he wasn't _talking_  to him.

"What should we talk about?" Phil said then. Dan groaned. And then realized that he'd groaned, and opened his eyes. He tried with all his might to keep his eyes level with Phil's, to not let them slip lower, to trace the water droplet that slid from his collar bone, and hung from his nipple for a few, achingly long seconds, before sliding the rest of the way down his toned torso, to drop into the tub. Dan blinked.

"Can we not just be silent?"

Phil laughed, as if this was a joke. His fingers had stopped moving over Dan's foot, but he was still holding onto it, letting it rest on his thigh. Dan slouched lower in the water, endlessly grateful for the abundance of bubbles. It was oddly comfortable, and as Phil's gentle fingers started massaging his ankles, he let his eyes slip shut.

—  
Dan woke with a start, realizing all at once that he had fallen asleep. His head was still rested on the edge of the tub, but much of his body was pressed against Phil, and one of his legs was wrapped around him entirely. The bubbles had grown sparse, and part of Dan's hip had managed to breach the surface, leaving part of his arse visible and vulnerable to the cold air.

He lifted his eyes to meet Phil's, and embarrassment flooded through him as he realized his friend was still awake, likely conscious of every movement Dan had made in his sleep to end up in that position.

"Sorry," Dan said hastily, and quickly untangled himself from Phil, only to draw his knees up to his chest. God, why couldn't things just not be awkward for one second? Why was Phil capable of being so calm and cool in a situation like this? Was it because he wasn't attracted to Dan?

Dan pressed his forehead against his knees. He just wanted this to be over already. Why couldn't Phil have just left him alone to suffer over the fact that he was _in love with him_?

"Hey," Phil said softly, and his foot tapped insistently against the side of Dan's thigh. "Stop freaking out."

"Don't tell me what to do,” Dan muttered, but he lifted his head and rested his chin on his knee instead, only to glare sullenly at Phil. “I’m getting out now.”

“Okay,” Phil said easily. Dan huffed loudly when he did nothing to suggest he was going to close his eyes or at least look away. He then leaned to the side of the bath and grabbed a fluffy, white towel, which he wrapped around himself after hurriedly standing up in the bath, before climbing out of it and dripping water everywhere.

He didn’t bother to say goodbye to Phil, or to even look at him, and instead stomped into his room, trailing water all behind him. He closed the door to the bathroom behind himself and hurriedly dried off in the closet, half-afraid that Phil would come bursting into here as well. Once he was sufficiently dry, he picked out a nice outfit to lounge around his rooms in. Still, perhaps he would go riding today, or walk through the gardens. He was starting to think that he needed some time away from Phil.

Dan stepped back out of his closet only to walk directly into Phil, dressed in a clean pair of clothes (and when did he get those?).

“Sorry,” Dan said, before moving around him. Maybe he would go on a walk _right this very second_.

“Dan,” Phil said softly, and Dan spun around in exasperation.

“ _What_?”

Phil moved closer, until he was much too close and inarguably invading Dan’s personal space. Automatically, Dan began to move backwards, but Phil’s hand reached out and latched itself around his elbow, holding him firmly in place.

“What?” Dan repeated. Phil ignored him. Instead, he tugged, gently, on Dan’s arm, until he was taking a step closer—even closer to Phil—who then leaned in. _What’s happening?_  Dan had the ability to wonder, before Phil’s lips were touching his, and his hand was clutching Dan’s waist. For a second, Dan was completely stunned, and he remained still as Phil’s lips moved against his. But then he realized that he was being kissed by Phil and his lips parted slightly, allowing Phil to kiss him a bit more firmly.

And then Dan realized, for the second time, that he was being _kissed by Phil_ , and that this made absolutely no sense at all. He shoved Phil away from himself, then, and stumbled backwards as well, putting as much space between them as he could.

“ _What are you doing_?” he hissed.

“Er—well, I _was_  kissing you,” Phil responded. Dan tried to ignore the fact that he could feel tears building in his eyes, and he prayed that Phil wasn’t able to see them.

“I don’t need your—your— _pity_ ,” he spat. “You can’t just _kiss_  me because you feel bad for me, or something! You think I want that, because I’m in l-love with you?” Now the fact that he was on the verge of tears was evident, as his voice was thick with them. Phil looked stunned—too stunned to respond—but Dan continued. “That’s just _mean_. God, Phil.”

With that, he spun on his heel and walked as fast as he could from the room, unable to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks any longer. God! Phil was ridiculous!

Dan hadn’t seen it at first, had thought that Phil was just being his normal, weird self, but now it was entirely too obvious. He felt bad for him, and probably guilty as well, that Dan had fallen in love with him and he didn’t reciprocate. As his best friend, Phil probably thought it was his duty to give Dan some of those experiences that he wouldn’t otherwise have—and who better to give them to him than the person Dan was in love with? Except it wasn’t helpful at all! Now Dan just knew what it was like, and knew that he would never be able to have it again. How could Phil be so stupid as to think this was a good idea?

  
“Good Morning, Your Highness,” a guard greeted cheerfully as Dan threw open the door. He didn’t take the time to register who it was or to bother responding, instead storming past them and down the hall. Once he was a few steps from his rooms, he couldn’t resist breaking into a run, gasping and sobbing as he did. He had this irrational fear that Phil was mere steps behind him, and Dan took random turn after turn through the castle, managing to find himself a place that he was pretty sure Phil had no idea how to get to, tucked into some random corner in a lower level of the castle.

There, Dan sank to the floor and wrapped his arms tightly around himself, trying to cry as quietly as possible. He was afraid that any sniffles or sobs that escaped would echo loudly through the castle, alerting Phil to his presence, and so he instead let his tears fall silently.

He didn't know how much time passed before he heard quiet footsteps somewhere near him. He heard every step like a clock's bell, ticking down the time until he was found. Dan clutched his legs tighter to his chest, hoping that he would just shrink. Maybe, if he couldn't see whoever it was, they wouldn't be able to see him either.

Louder and louder the footsteps grew, and Dan's heart beated a dreaded rhythm along with them. Suddenly, they silenced, and he had a strong feeling that the person was standing directly in front of him.

"Prince Daniel? What are you doing here?" It was Charlotte. Dan sighed into his knees. He was still annoyed that someone had even come across him, but at least it wasn't Phil.

"I'm the prince," Dan informed her. "I can be wherever I want."

"Of course," Charlotte said gracefully, though her tone suggested she was only humoring him. "But is there any rhyme or reason as to why you're sulking in the servants' quarters?"

Oh, was that where he'd ended up?

"I'm not sulking," Dan answered. Charlotte was just a cook, and a _night_  cook at that. She shouldn't even be awake at this hour, much less asking him questions she didn't deserve the answers to.

"Does this have something to do with the fact that Phil was asking all the servants if they'd seen you?"

Dan cursed. "Don't you dare tell him!" he commanded. "If you do I’ll—I'll... fire you!"

"I don't have to," Charlotte answered easily. Dan sighed in relief. "Because Cecily already has."

"What?!" Dan exclaimed, and he leapt to his feet.

"It's kind of hard not to notice when the prince comes running down the servants' corridors. She told him that you'd run past a little while ago."

"Fuck!" Dan spat, before spinning around wildly. His hiding place wasn't any good any more, he'd have to find somewhere else. He was going to have to hide until Phil went back to Leona, whenever that was!

“Your Highness," Charlotte said sharply. "Are you sure you won't just... talk to him? He seemed pretty distressed."

Dan practically growled, and he spun back around and pointed a finger at her face. "You know nothing!" he yelled, before he started running again.

He didn't know his castle as well in these parts, but he ventured deeper and deeper into its foundation. He even occasionally backtracked, just to throw off his scent. You know, if Phil were to try to search for him with dogs.

Dan was feeling pretty confident in his avoidance ability, and he glanced behind himself anxiously as he turned yet another corner. He'd just have to find another place where he could sit and hide. Maybe he could get the servants to bring food to him too. And—

Dan cried out as he walked directly into an object, causing him to stumble backwards and throw out his arms for balance.

"God dammit!" he yelled, because of-fucking-course it was Phil he’d run into.

"Dan," Phil breathed, sounding as if he'd been running. "I've been looking for you."

Dan glared at him. "Leave me alone."

"Just hear me out," Phil begged, and Dan huffed loudly and leaned one shoulder against the wall. He let himself slump carelessly, knowing that he looked cool and unbothered in that moment, though in reality he was just as high-strung and uncomfortable as before. It was nice to keep up appearances, however. It certainly put him at an advantage.

"Fine," Dan drawled. "But make it quick; I'm starting to get hungry." Phil let out an exasperated sound, his anger and annoyance starting to show. Normally he seemed so in control of his emotions, but now it looked as if they were bursting through the seams.

"I didn't kiss you because I pitied you," Phil said immediately. Dan hurriedly glanced around, relieved to find them quite alone in the large corridor.

"I know what you're doing," Dan interrupted.

“Er—you do?"

"Of course. You think that making me happy is your duty or something. You were willing to kiss me for it, so why wouldn't you be willing to pretend to court me, at least until you return to Leona? Well I refuse. I'm not interested in that, and if you give me time I'll get over my feelings for you anyway. In fact, it'd probably be better if you went back to Le—"

"You're such an idiot!" Phil growled. He lunged forward, and Dan found himself darting out of the way in surprise, stumbling over his feet as he lumbered out of Phil’s way.

“Phil—what?” he gasped, but Phil ignored him. He’d always been faster than Dan, and by now it was obvious that he was stronger than him, and he managed to catch and restrain Dan in no time before shoving him back up against the wall. Dan felt himself flush in anger, and he only resisted from trying to punch him when he remembered how badly that had gone the first time.

"Fuck you," he hissed.

" _Listen to me_ ," Phil demanded, and Dan stared at him loftily. He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulder elegantly, as if uncaring whether Phil continued, but in all actuality it was the only option Dan had—he couldn't have broken Phil's grip if he tried.

"I _like_  you," Phil said insistently. "I love you, even—when you're not being a giant prat."

"Yeah but—"

"Shut up!" Phil said, and his fingers dug harshly into Dan, where they were still pressing him against the wall. " _No_  I don't mean as a friend. I mean in the exact way you do."

Dan was struck dumb at that. "But then..." he said uneasily, searching Phil's face as if to find an answer. Phil was blushing, something he didn't do often, and so Dan felt inclined to believe him. But what he was saying just _didn't make sense_ , which made believing him a lot harder of a thing to do.

"I didn't tell you because the timing was wrong," Phil continued, answering a question Dan hadn't even asked. "When you told me you loved me, I didn't say anything right away because I was surprised—I'd never expected that you'd feel the same way as me. And by the time I'd gathered my thoughts enough to respond, you were halfway back to the castle. And of course after that you didn't talk to anyone for three days. And then when I was going to tell you, you almost died and I got put on trial.

"I thought I'd seem like a bit of an asshole if I told you right after we got out of the courtroom, so I’d decided to tell you today. Plus, I didn't think you'd be able to sleep very well if you knew I was in love with you, and you were still pretty out of it from the poison."

Dan blinked, several times. What he was saying _sounded_  logical. But could it really be true? It seemed too good to be...

"Believe me now?" Phil said quietly, his voice firm and laced with irritation. Despite his tone, he ended up dropping one of his hands from where it was digging into Dan’s shoulder and instead winding it between Dan's fingers.

"But then... why did you keep taunting me about being in love with you!" Dan demanded. He felt almost as if he were dreaming, and he felt like he was going to wake up at any moment and be embarrassed for the sheer lunacy his unconscious mind had come up with.

Phil laughed, which he hurriedly quieted by pressing his face into Dan's shoulder, which made him blush, for some dumb reason.

"I couldn't help it," Phil finally admitted. "It's so fun to wind you up." He pressed his forehead against Dan's, and for a second Dan stared at him, wide-eyed and in love, before his words registered.

"You dick!" he cried, and shoved Phil away, only to be immediately pulled into his arms again, the both of them laughing. Dan let himself be held, and he couldn't help the giddy feeling bubbling all throughout his body. He giggled against Phil's neck.

"So you believe me?" Phil asked again. He tried to pull away to look at Dan's face, but Dan clung to him, keeping his face well-hidden.

"I guess," he admitted. Phil snickered into his ear.

"Can I kiss you now?"

Dan stumbled backward. " _No_ ," he said incredulously, before he turned and started towards the nearest staircase.

"What? Why not?" Phil protested, following after him.

"That's... _awkward_ ," Dan insisted, a blush prominent on his cheeks now. "You can't just ask me that," he added.

"You want me to do it without asking?"

"No! Well, I don't know... But you definitely can't do it out here, where anyone could see."

"You don't want anyone to know?" Phil asked, sounding kind of hurt.

"No!" Dan said again. He couldn't seem to get anything right, and he could barely even sort out his feelings for himself. "Well, maybe... at least for a little bit... I just don't want anyone to see me, you know. _Kissing_.”

Phil laughed, and somehow his arm found itself snaking around Dan's waist. Dan felt wobbly and unsteady on his feet, despite the fact that Phil was now supporting him. Their sides were pressed completely against each other, and Phil _loved_  him.

Dan shook Phil off once they emerged from the servants' quarters, aware of the various sets of eyes around the castle. He couldn't help the small smile plastered on his face though, nor the fact that he was walking as close to Phil as he could without touching him. Occasionally their shoulders brushed, and shivers would shoot all the way down Dan's arm.

They passed by Charlotte, who had the appearance of one being up in the middle of the night—which Dan supposed it was, for her. She was seated in the alcove of a window, munching hungrily on a sandwich.

"Everything turn out alright then?" she questioned through her mouthful, raising her eyebrows at Dan. He sneered at her.

"It's impolite to speak with your mouth full," he informed.

"I'll take that as a yes then," she replied, hardly bothering to swallow. Dan turned up his nose and continued on his way, though he was sure she'd seen the smile he'd been sporting while walking beside Phil, who now grinned at her before catching back up to walk beside Dan.

"Good afternoon," Dan greeted formally, as he came to stop in front of Alfonzo and Bentley, both of whom looked amused.

"Everything okay, Your Highness?" Bentley asked. His lip had this stupid curl to it; they both wouldn't stop smirking at Dan.

"Of course," Dan answered simply, before stepping between them to open his door. Bentley let out a loud snort, and Alfonzo kicked him in the shin. Phil looked just as amused as the two of them, and Dan tugged him roughly into his room in annoyance.

He then immediately slammed the door shut before holding up a finger to Phil and pressing his ear against it.

"Is it just me or is the Prince running away from Phil every other day?" Dan still didn't get why Phil let everyone address him so informally.

"Shut up!" Alfonzo laughed.

"Phil must be really good at apologizing though—they always end up coming back here together."

There was a long silence, and then Alfonzo coughed something that sounded suspiciously like, "Makeup sex."

Dan gasped, and unable to help himself, he threw open the door and pointed a finger in Alfonzo's face. He was unable to think of anything to say, however, and he just ended up shrieking, " _What_!"

Bentley was red-faced and bent over with laughter, meanwhile Alfonzo looked only marginally guilty. Phil was laughing somewhere behind Dan too, and he felt himself being pulled back into the room by him, all the while spluttering at the two guards.

"He really does eavesdrop all the time," Bentley wheezed, and Dan gasped in outrage.

"I'll have you hanged!" he managed to yell, at which Bentley continued to laugh uproariously, before Phil was slamming the door between them.

"I just—did you hear that?! I can't believe them!" Dan fumed, while Phil continued to look entirely too amused.

"That's what you get for eavesdropping," he said easily, and Dan shoved passed him.

"I'm the prince," he answered, though he was willing to admit that that was his answer for the majority of the things he did. "I can eavesdrop on whoever I like."

He stomped directly into his bedroom with Phil right on his heels. Immediately, he realized the kind of connotations bedrooms usually implied, and went bright red.

"Living room," he blurted, before turning towards the door again.

"What?"

"We should go to the living room," Dan explained. Phil was staring at him with an eyebrow raised, looking more amused and in his element than ever. Dan felt like a gangly, inexperienced child—he could barely even remember how to breathe.

"Why?"

"We shouldn't be in my  _bedroom_  together," Dan spluttered.

"We've had a million sleepovers."

“But—"

"And we just had a bath together," he added.

"That was your fault!" Dan exclaimed. "And fuck you for putting me through that! I felt so awkward."

"It was cute."

"Fuck you!" Dan yelled again, but he had to turn to keep Phil from seeing his (exasperated) smile. He knew, even before it happened, that Phil was going to come to him. And true enough, Phil had soon crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist, only to pull him into his chest.

Dan sighed softly and let himself settle into Phil’s chest. He was warm, and firm, and it felt good, having his arms wrapped around him.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered, and Dan stiffened slightly in his arms.

“What if I’m bad at it?”

“Then we’ll practice.”

Dan responded with something unintelligible at that, and Phil spun him around in his arms, which settled back lightly against his waist. “Is this okay?” he asked. Dan nodded his assent. He wanted to kiss Phil. He _really_  wanted to kiss him, but he didn’t have any sort of experience with that sort of thing. Was it even possible to be bad at kissing?

“And can I kiss you now?” Phil questioned, his smile soft and insistent.

“Fine,” Dan muttered, embarrassment flooding his cheeks, and he clenched his eyes shut and tilted his head in preparation.

“Relax,” Phil whispered. His thumb brushed gently over Dan’s bottom lip, and he found himself gasping at the sudden contact, though he kept his eyes securely closed. And then it was Phil’s mouth touching his. There’d been a few, agonizingly long seconds beforehand, but now Phil’s lips were _against_  his and Dan found himself keeping impossibly still, unsure where to go from here.

Phil’s lips moved against his, then, slowly but surely. They parted and pushed and pulled, coaxing Dan into the kiss until he was clumsily kissing back. He was clenching his hands tightly by his sides, concentrating with all his might on not messing this up somehow. Phil’s hands were on him, however, one on his chin and tilting his head back, the other resting gently on his hip, his thumb having somehow found its way under Dan’s shirt to press against the skin of his side.

When Phil introduced tongue, it was phenomenal. Dan felt dizzy and unbalanced all at once, and he gasped as Phil’s tongue touched his lips, only to sneak into his mouth. He forgot himself for a second, and his hands unclenched only to shoot out and grab desperately at Phil’s sides, before he recovered, hurriedly releasing Phil and returning them to where they’d started. Phil chuckled then, pulling away from Dan slightly to do so, leaving him panting and flushed and holding himself so stiffly it hurt.

“You can touch me, you know,” Phil said softly, and Dan could do nothing besides blink at him. Phil carefully reached out for Dan’s hands, and he took his time uncurling each of his fingers, until they were open and splayed and he was guiding them to his own body. With both of his hands on Phil’s chest, Dan swallowed thickly and tried not to become overwhelmed.

Phil leaned in again, and soon Dan’s splayed hands turned into clenched fists, clutching the material of Phil’s shirt desperately as he maneuvered his tongue through Dan’s mouth with expertise. He did something then, where he sucked gently on Dan’s tongue, and Dan was so overwhelmed with pleasure and surprise that he moaned. Embarrassed, Dan tried to pull away and apologize, but Phil held him tighter, closer, and he did that thing with his mouth again.

Soon they were panting, their slow, lazy, careful kisses picking up speed as Dan got the hang of things. And Dan lost himself as well, finding himself pressing insistently against Phil, pulling him closer and closer, his hand buried in Phil’s hair.

Phil pressed closer to him too, and all at once their hips were touching, and Dan realized with distinct clarity that he was achingly hard, though he didn’t understand how he hadn’t realized it before. He shoved away from Phil suddenly, panting loudly, and apologized.

“I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to get…” Dan gestured absently at his waist. “Just—give me a few minutes, okay?” Unfortunately, the whole _gesturing_  at his crotch thing drew Phil’s eyes right to it, obviously, which was even worse.

“You’re embarrassed because you’re hard?” Phil asked, and Dan flushed viciously.

“I—well! When you put it that way!” he protested, his eyes flitting around the room uncomfortably.

“You realize I am too, right?”

“What?”

“I’m just as turned on,” Phil said easily, simply, as if it was every day he was telling Dan that he was _turned on_. As if Dan’s brain needed proof, he found his eyes flicking down to confirm that _yes, Phil was hard_ , before he managed to pull his eyes away and swallow thickly. He was a bit nervous and overwhelmed, but a much larger part of Dan was shouting _I did that!_

“Okay,” Dan said, unsure where to go from here. _Hi, yes, I heard your cock was hard—well mine is also!_

“We can stop if you want to,” Phil said easily, and Dan blinked at him.

“If I want to?”

Phil nodded. “We could keep kissing if you wanted to, too.”

Dan considered this. The fact that he was hard was considerably less embarrassing when Phil was hard as well, and it wasn’t like he _wanted_  to stop what they were doing.

“Okay,” Dan said then, and he pulled Phil back against him. He was leaning up to kiss him again when an inexplicable urge to laugh bubbled up inside him, and he ended up pressing his face against Phil’s shoulder instead as he giggled.

“What?” Phil demanded, laughing too now. They were contagious. “What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know!” Dan said. “I just can’t believe I’m kissing you.”

“Well technically, right now you’re just hugging me.”

“Shut up,” Dan groaned, though he did squeeze Phil tighter against himself. “It’s just kind of surreal.”

“I know,” Phil finally said, his voice taking on the same soft quality as Dan’s. “I love you.”

Overcome with emotion, Dan tilted his head and attached their lips together, gasping and groaning as Phil worked him expertly, using nothing more than his tongue and teeth.

“Do you want to lie down?” Dan panted, and Phil nodded vigorously. The thought of doing exactly what they were doing now except _horizontal_  was for some reason as frightening as it was pleasurable to think about, but Dan let himself be maneuvered by Phil until they were both crawling up his bed together. They’d laid in it together several times before, but now it felt completely different.

As they laid beside each other, still steadily kissing, Phil’s hand settled heavily on his hip. And slowly but surely, it found it’s way under his shirt until it was splayed across his stomach. It was just his stomach, but for some reason Dan felt incredibly turned on just from having Phil’s hand under his shirt. He waited anxiously for what he was going to do next, trying to concentrate on the kiss as the majority of his mind focused on Phil’s hand.

He nearly moaned when Phil’s hand moved again, even further up, until he was just gently stroking the skin of Dan’s stomach and chest, as if he were mapping out the area in his mind. He purposefully flicked over Dan’s nipple, and Dan gasped into his mouth before pulling away.

“Do that again,” he demanded, and Phil laughed before propping himself on one elbow and staring down at Dan.

“Okay. Lay back,” he instructed, until Dan was situated and lying flat on his back on his bed, and Phil was hovering over him. Everything felt a bit more intense (and embarrassing—what, with Phil watching his reactions so intently) when they weren’t kissing. Phil shucked Dan’s shirt up to his armpits without preamble, and he smiled softly at the noise Dan made because of it, some combination of embarrassment and arousal. And then he was trailing his fingers all over Dan again, though this time he was watching and absorbing all of Dan’s reactions.

His stomach muscles clenched automatically as Phil brushed over them, due to the ticklish feeling, and Dan was practically holding his breath as Phil started to move upward again, slowly, slowly getting closer to his nipple. Dan didn’t really understand—they’d never seemed very extraordinary or even noticeable in the past, but now he was practically panting just at the thought of Phil touching them.

Tauntingly, Phil drew his finger around the nub again and again, before finally flicking over the sensitive peaks. Dan’s breath shuddered, and he watched avidly as Phil did it again.

“I never would’ve guessed you had sensitive nipples,” Phil commented, and Dan finally looked away from his hand to make eye contact with him.

“Me neith—” Dan broke off with a gasp as Phil pinched his nipple between two fingers and _pulled_. His cock was leaking in his trousers, which he hoped wasn’t showing through the fabric. “Fuck,” he panted. “That feels really good.”

“Want me to do it with my mouth?” Phil said with a smirk. Just the words made Dan feel dazed, but he nodded vigorously. Phil climbed over him, until he was on all fours above Dan’s body, before he took the time to spread Dan’s legs out so he could lay between them. Dan’s eyes widened, and he managed to make an embarrassed noise of protest as Phil settled between them, pressed up against Dan’s cock. It was against Phil’s lower stomach, seeing as his face was aligned with Dan’s chest.

“Don’t worry,” Phil whispered, scarily in tune with Dan’s every thought and feeling. “It’s okay.” As if to prove just how okay it was, he titled his head down and circled around Dan’s nipple with his tongue, which made him moan before he managed to clamp down on his lips.

He was a panting, sweating mess as Phil abused his nipple, licking and sucking and _biting_  them. He finally slowed down and just started pressing kisses to Dan’s chest, in between his nipples, as Dan struggled to breathe normally.

“You okay?” Phil questioned, and Dan made a noise in confirmation before lifting his hand and burying it in Phil’s hair. He seemed to like it when Dan did this, and he grabbed a handful and pulled it lightly, smiling as Phil’s eyes fluttered shut and his head followed Dan’s hand.

“Phil,” Dan said slowly, and he flushed when Phil opened his eyes and looked up at him as he spoke. “Um… Do you think we could… have sex?” Phil’s eyes widened at this, and Dan flushed even more, though he resisted the urge to pull away from Phil.

“Er—we don’t have to,” Dan quickly added. “I was just wondering—and it all felt really good, and all. But—”

“Dan,” Phil interrupted, and he was wearing that stupid soft smile that he’d been directing at Dan ever since he’d told him he loved him. “Of course we can. Did you mean right now?”

“Well, only if you want to, too.”

“I’ve never done it with a boy before,” Phil admitted, and Dan nodded.

“I uh—I found a few books in the library. I know what to, to do. Um…”

“I’ve read a few books like that,” Phil said, nodding understandably. “I just haven’t actually been able to put in into practice.”

“But we can try?” Dan said hopefully, and Phil grinned and nodded.

“So who’s going to—”

“Top?” Dan interrupted. Phil nodded. “Well, I was thinking. You’ve at least had sex before, so maybe it would make more sense for you to? And then maybe the next time, I could.”

“Sounds good to me,” Phil said, and kissed his chest again. Dan was glad he didn’t comment on the fact that Dan was thinking about the next time they were going to have sex when they hadn’t even done it the first time yet.

“We could use that massage oil,” Dan tentatively offered, and Phil nodded excitedly at the suggestion, before offering to get it. He climbed off Dan and hurried into the bathroom. Feeling awkward with his shirt rucked up his chest, with Phil nowhere to be seen, he pulled it off entirely, figuring it would be weirder if he pulled it back down only to have Phil lift it off again.

When Phil came back, oil in hand, he immediately noticed that Dan had disposed of his shirt, and he smiled suggestively.

“Shut up,” Dan laughed, before using his elbows to sit up slightly. Phil went ahead right then and took off his shirt as well, as if to imitate Dan’s state of undress.

Phil tossed the oil onto the bed beside Dan, before shimmying out of his trousers and climbing onto the bed himself. Not one to be left behind, Dan went about unbuttoning his own trousers. “How many times have you had sex again?” Dan asked, staring determinedly at his button. He figured that getting naked was less imposing than looking at Phil as he asked this, so he continued by pushing his trousers down and kicking them off his ankles.

“How many times? Or with how many people?”

“Oh God. Neither,” Dan answered, still steadily avoiding eye contact.

“How come? Are you nervous?”

Dan breathed out heavily. “How could I not be?” he finally answered, surprised at his own honestly. He looked up at Phil then. “And what if I’m bad at it?”

“You won’t be,” Phil promised, and then at Dan’s doubtful look: “Don’t worry. Just relax and I’ll make you feel good.”

Dan’s cock twitched at that, which he felt was oddly visible through the thin layer of his underwear alone. Phil placed his hands on Dan’s thighs and slid them carefully upward, until his palms were cupping Dan’s hip bones—and then he hooked his fingers under Dan’s pants.

“May I?”

“Yes.”

Dan didn’t bother to look at Phil pulled his pants down, instead staring with great concentration on the ceiling. He felt his cock jump free of its constraint, and there were a few moments of terrible, horrible silence, before Phil’s hand was wrapping around Dan’s arousal and he was jerking upward in surprise. “Oh,” he breathed, and he was looking at Phil now, his eyes unsure whether to concentrate on Phil’s hand, stroking slowly up and down over Dan, or at his face, which looked hungry and appreciative and _aroused_.

“K-keep doing that,” Dan whispered, unable to help it as his hips gave tiny jerks into Phil’s hand whenever it slid upward, or the way his cock twitched when Phil thumbed through the slit. He was still moving so slowly, but it felt amazing to have someone else’s hand on him, concentrating on nothing but _him_.

“Forever?” Phil joked, his voice tinged with amusement, and Dan blushed as he looked up at him, before gasping quietly as Phil ran his thumb over the slit again.

“Sure,” Dan responded, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. His hands were routinely clenching and unclenching the bed sheets beneath him. Phil’s other hand came up to fondle his balls, and Dan moaned low in his throat, arching desperately into Phil’s hand.

“I-is this what it’s like when you do it alone?” Dan panted, forcing his eyes open again to stare at Phil dazedly. Phil’s hand slowed even more.

“You don’t masturbate?” he asked, and Dan shook his head against the pillow.

“I have a few times, but other than that…”

“Oh my God,” Phil breathed, and his hand picked up again, making Dan whimper at the feeling, the pace. “You’re such an angel,” he teased.

“Fuck you,” Dan panted, but he was bucking into Phil’s hand now, unable to keep himself still. Suddenly, Phil’s hand wasn’t around him anymore, and Dan was left thrusting into midair, which was embarrassing. “Hey…” he protested meekly.

“Be patient,” Phil teased, and Dan nodded obediently, absent-mindedly swiping his sweaty hair out of his face.

“You should take off your boxers,” Dan announced. It was much more obvious that he was the only one naked when Phil wasn’t actively pleasuring him, and Phil only spared him another amused look.

“I will. Just be patient, will you?”

Phil, having seemingly sorted something with the massage oil, finally took off his pants ( _woah_ ) and used his hands to spread Dan’s legs apart, which left him extremely vulnerable and somehow made him seem, if possible, even more naked.

“Ready?” Phil asked, as he poured a generous amount of oil onto his hand. Dan nodded eagerly, though he held his breath when Phi’s fingers finally lowered and brushed against his entrance. He just did that for a few moments, dragging his fingers slowly and carefully over the sensitive, puckered skin, before he eased the tip of one finger inside. Dan determinedly held his body relaxed, recalling the instructions from the books he’d read, as Phil carefully pushed his finger further in.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dan answered. “Feels a little weird, but it doesn’t hurt.” They continued like that, Phil moving his finger in and out of him with the help of the oil. He soon eased in a second finger, though, and Dan felt his eyebrows draw down as he did. This one was more of a stretch, and Dan could feel his body trying to decide whether it wanted to accept them or not, stretching around his fingers almost as if it didn’t want to. And then Phil crooked his fingers, and they brushed against something that made Dan’s entire body thrum, that made him twist up and press down on Phil’s fingers, and suddenly Dan’s body was very, very sure. “Holy fuck,” Dan whispered. “Do that ag-gain.”

Stretching Dan enough to let Phil’s third finger inside was easy enough after they’d found his prostate, and Phil was very liberal with pleasuring Dan that way.

“Do you think you’re ready?” Phil moaned, and Dan abruptly realized that Phil hadn’t been touched in all this time. Dan felt horrible then, and very, very sure that he was bad at sex.

“Definitely,” he responded, and Phil was quick to lather his cock in oil before lining it up with Dan’s entrance, after situating Dan so that he was laying on his back with his legs thrown over Phil’s shoulders.

“You’re so beautiful, Dan,” Phil told him. Dan opened his mouth to respond, but he found himself very unable to as Phil slid inside him, making Dan feel _full_. He kept pushing, slow but determined, until they were flush against each other, both panting and sweating. Phil moaned low in his throat, and Dan liked the sound so much that he squeezed around him tentatively, delighted when Phil made the sound again.

“Don’t do that,” he whispered. “Or I swear I’ll come in two seconds.” Dan laughed, though he managed to keep himself still. He felt very stretched and full, and it’d hurt a bit when Phil was first sliding it, but now it had regressed into a gentle throb, one full of more pleasure than pain.

Soon enough, Phil was pulling out and pushing back in, both of them making twin sounds of pleasure at the movement. After only a few more thrusts Phil was picking up speed, and Dan was clinging to him as his pleasure built with each thrust.

“Fuck, Phil,” he gasped. “I’m close already.” He was bouncing with every one of Phil’s thrusts, his head pressed against the mattress and his hands curled around Phil’s wrists, both of which were holding him up on either side of Dan’s body.

“Me too,” Phil panted, and he shifted slightly, enough so that he was now pounding directly into Dan’s prostate, and a broken sounding moan escaped him. It didn’t take much longer after that, until Dan was shuddering and shaking underneath Phil, tightening around his cock sporadically as his release covered his own chest. Phil quickly followed with a groan, until they were both still and shaking slightly, their breaths loud in the suddenly quiet room.

“Holy shit,” Dan breathed. Phil carefully pulled out of him, and Dan winced at the feeling.

“Sorry,” Phil mumbled, and he grabbed a random article of clothing ( _please not mine,_ Dan thought) and wiped the mess from Dan’s chest. “I love you,” he informed, after throwing the now dirty clothing to the floor and curling himself around Dan, who was still twitching slightly with the aftershocks. He pulled Dan tight against his body, and it was too hot and too sweaty, but it was also perfect, and Dan let himself sink into his chest.

“I think I’m going to be really sore when I try to stand up,” Dan said quietly, before pressing his face into Phil’s chest.

“I’ll carry you everywhere you want to go,” Phil mumbled. He dropped a kiss on Dan’s forehead, and Dan couldn’t help smiling against Phil’s chest. He wondered if Phil could feel it.

“That was really good,” Dan admitted quietly, and Phil chuckled against his hair.

“We’ll do it again soon,” he promised. “And I’ll make it last longer.” Dan blushed brightly, but he was secretly really quite pleased.


	14. Chapter 14

“Shh!” Phil giggled into Dan’s ear, as he pressed him against the door. Dan rolled his eyes, but finally whispered as Phil clearly wanted him to.

“What’s going on?” Dan whispered. Phil’s grin was infectious.

“I was thinking we could have some fun…” Phil’s expression was mischievous, and Dan shook his head warily.

“Not when you’re looking like that,” he said.

“It’ll be fun,” Phil whispered directly into his ear. His breath was warm over Dan’s ear, and it made him shiver violently. “All you have to do is keep quiet.”

“What?”

With that, Phil dropped to his knees in front of him, and Dan went pale. On the other side of this door stood his two guards, and Phil wanted to _suck him off_  against it?! Did he honestly think that Dan was going to be able to hold in all his noises?

Despite his wide eyes and elevated heartbeat, Dan did nothing to stop Phil as he unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, did nothing as his trousers and pants pooled against the ground around his ankles.

“You won’t last a minute,” Phil promised, smirking up at him. With that, he took Dan in his mouth, and Dan had to concentrate to not slam his head back against the door. He could feel a moan bubbling up in his chest, the slick, wet, warmth of Phil’s mouth making him go mad.

He was better than Christina. He was a _thousand_  times better than Christina, his mouth doing things that Dan didn’t even know was fathomable. His tongue twirled and twisted and licked against Dan, and his hands pressed Dan’s hips against the door, keeping him from bucking forward and shoving his cock all the way down Phil’s throat.

Dan vaguely wondered if he was going to die. Surely, pleasure of this amount, could kill him? Phil was sucking the life out of him and Dan didn’t even care, he didn’t care about anything. He couldn’t even quite remember why he was trying not to make a noise, but his fist was already shoved in his mouth and so he bit down on his knuckles anyway.

He felt hot and sweaty all over, and his thighs were shaking with the effort of holding himself up. He looked down at Phil only to find him already looking at Dan, and that was so incredibly hot for reasons Dan couldn’t explain. His _cock_  was in Phil’s _mouth_  and Phil was _looking_  at him.

Dan wrenched his fist from his mouth and instead buried it in Phil’s hair, his mouth hanging open as he panted. Phil pressed his tongue firmly against the bottom of Dan’s arousal as he slid to the end, and then he lapped at the tip, his hand secure around the base. Dan’s hand was clenched so tightly in Phil’s hair that he was surprised he wasn’t complaining by now, but he didn’t think he’d be able to unclench his hand even if he wanted to.

He wanted so badly to make a noise, to stop holding everything in and just throw his head back against the door and moan into the room. The effort of not doing so was insurmountable, and despite how hot he felt goosebumps rose all along his body.

“Phil,” he whispered. His limbs felt like jelly, and he suspected that he would’ve collapsed long before now had Phil’s hands not been securing him to the door.

“Quiet, Dan,” Phil reprimanded, pulling off him for a moment to do so.

“Phil,” Dan said, shaking his head. “Close.” Phil’s eyes twinkled with something that looked like glee, and then he was on Dan again, his mouth moving faster than before and his tongue doing something that made Dan whine. Phil pinched his hip for that, but Dan couldn’t help it.

It all built into a crescendo, until Dan could barely breath and Phil was sinking all the way down on him, and Dan came with a choked cry, Phil’s fingers digging harshly into his hip. They stayed like that for a moment, until Phil released him with an obscene sounding _pop_  and led Dan, dizzy and disoriented, by the hand and into his room.

“Forty-seven,” Phil announced, shucking off his clothes and climbing into Dan’s bed.

“What?” Dan mumbled, distracted both from his recent orgasm and from Phil’s naked body. Dan climbed into his bed as well, already moving towards Phil. It was like he was a magnet, always pulling Dan closer.

“That’s how long you lasted,” Phil said with a smirk. “Forty-seven seconds.”

—

Dan blinked his eyes open slowly, his body warm and pliable beneath his covers. A quick look around revealed that it was pitch black outside, and that it was probably close to one of the early hours of the morning.

Parts of Phil’s body were overlapping and intertwining with his, their sleep warmed skin soft against each other. Phil’s hand was curled gently around Dan’s wrist, which was resting atop Phil’s chest.

Dan smiled, remembering their earlier activities. After their first time, slow and sweet and a bit desperate, they’d cuddled and talked, their voices quiet and comfortable. They’d eventually gotten up and continued going about their day, even remembering to consume the proper amount of meals.

It was undeniable how visibly excited they both were to return to Dan’s rooms, and when it’d finally begun to get to a respectable time to retire, they’d stopped pretending to tour the gardens (and kissing in between the hedges) and went back to Dan’s rooms as quickly as they could without outright running. They’d stilled to a leisurely pace once close enough for Alfonzo and Bentley to see them, and Dan had bit his cheek the entire time he’d walked past them, afraid they were seeing right through him.

Only moments later, he’d been pressed against the door with Phil’s mouth around him. Dan wasn’t quite sure how much his guards had heard, but he was willing to bet that they’d known what had been going on behind closed doors. The very thought of having to converse with them again made Dan go red, and he considered firing them simply so he would never have to.

After that, they’d spent a lot of time moving against each other, giggling and panting into each other’s mouths. Dan had finally had a chance to be on top, with Phil pliant and encouraging underneath him, assuring him that he wasn’t in pain, that it felt good. The pressure of Phil around him had made Dan worried that he would come right away, but he’d managed to hold off and make it last a more respectable amount of time. It was surprising how good sex was, no matter what way they had it, and briefly, Dan encouraged thoughts where all of it was happening at once.

Of course, thinking about it now was not good for Dan’s cock, and he shifted slightly away from Phil consequently. With the movement, his stomach began to growl, and Dan realized just how hungry he truly was. He supposed it made sense—sex was hungry work, after all.

Carefully, so as not to disturb Phil, Dan eased himself out of his bed and shivered in the sudden cold of the room, all of his skin on display. He glanced at Phil, almost nervous that he would be looking at Dan. It hardly made sense; they’d seen each other naked multiple times already, and yet Dan still felt shy at the prospect of Phil really looking at him. He supposed it would probably go away as he grew more comfortable with being naked around Phil, but in the meantime he was glad that Phil’s eyes were very much closed as he tiptoed over to the closet.

He dressed himself in boxers and a warm robe, before sliding his feet into slippers and shuffling quietly to the door. He was careful to keep from waking Phil as he left the room.

“Your Highness,” Lin greeted quietly, leaning against the wall beside Dan’s door. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“Midnight snacks call to me,” Dan answered, and his stomach conveniently rumbled, helping to solidify his answer. “I’m starved.”

“Do you want us to accompany you, Prince?” Elaine asked. Dan shrugged.

“I think I’ll be fine on my own,” he said, before bidding them farewell and padding down the dark corridor. The castle looked creepy at night, it was undeniable. As a kid, Dan had absolutely refused to walk through it alone, and he would’ve demanded that his guards accompany him before they could even offer. Now, Dan simply ignored the dark shadows that lined the walls and the eery light that spilled in from the high windows.

The stairwell was especially dark, having nothing but torches to light the way, and they flickered dimly. Dan hurried along to the kitchens, knowing that the abundance of torches inside wouldn’t fail to comfort him.

The door opened with a quiet _snick_  and he blinked, surprised to see all the torches already lit. He’d been expecting to light the majority of them himself, but this was fine too—less work for him, anyway. He’d managed to take a single step into the kitchens before he heard voices, and naturally, he stopped, straining to hear them.

“…don’t know.”

“It’s too late now.”

“It’s _not_. We _have_  to. If we don’t…”

There was a collective sigh. The voices sounded small and young, and Dan struggled to match them with faces. He didn’t doubt that Phil would be able to do it, not to mention that he’d know their names as well.

“But I don’t want to anymore,” a girl said.

“Then if everything goes wrong it’ll be _your_  fault,” another girl answered. There was a loud sniff, and Dan wondered if one of them was crying.

The door suddenly creaked open as Dan leaned against it and he was forced to stumble into the room to avoid falling. Immediately, the conversation stopped. Dan stood there feeling irrationally guilty (he could listen in on whoever he wanted to—he was the prince!) as the three kids that Dan had occasionally seen around the castle jumped to their feet.

The kids stared at him, white-faced and wide-eyed, their mouths hanging open in astonishment. Dan simply stared at them, bewildered.

"Is your mom around?" Dan asked the boy before the silence could go on any longer. His name was something like Cody, if Dan was remembering correctly.

"W-why?"

Dan didn't correct him on the informal address, instead answering, "I wanted to have a snack."

A pause. “We can make you a snack," the blonde-haired girl offered. Recognition struck Dan and with it came her name: Allison. Her friend—Isabelle—looked at her, aghast.

"No we can't," she argued.

"We _can_ ," Allison insisted, nodding importantly. "We've been training in the kitchens the past few weeks—I can make tons of things by now!"

"Sounds great," Dan said, before walking further into the room and hopping up onto the counter. He swung his legs, looking around eagerly. "What can you make?"

The boy, Cody, looked a bit queasy, and Dan hoped that Allison's cooking wasn't /that/ bad. This was good practice for them, however, and they'd need to draw upon these skills when they were actually working here and not just in training.

"Soup?" Isabelle offered. Dan wrinkled his nose.

"That's not really a snack though, is it?"

“But Isabelle makes the best soup," Allison persisted, and Dan rolled his eyes but gave in.

"Fine," he said. "But this better be the best soup of my life." All the kids paled considerably at that, and Dan frowned. "I'm joking." Nervous laughter followed, and Dan huffed. They needed to learn to lighten up.

He watched with narrowed eyes as the three kids then went about preparing his soup, their nervousness and anxiety clear through every movement—the way they moved jerkily and too fast. A big pot was lugged over the grate and a fire lit underneath, the water inside set to boil. Allison was mechanically cutting vegetables on the counter, her hand shaking slightly as she sliced a carrot. Dan scanned the room, briefly looking at Isabelle, who was measuring ingredients, and Cody, who was grabbing a variety of spices out of the big kitchen pantry.

"Do you like working here?" Dan asked conversationally, as Cody strode past him, a handful of spices in hand.

"Oh. Yes!" he said abruptly, as though Dan were testing him.

"You know how to do all kinds of things I don't know," Dan continued.

Cody shifted from foot to foot slightly, before prompting, "like what?"

"Cooking, for one thing," Dan offered, gesturing towards the pot. "And caring for horses. I love my horse, but I would have no idea how to care for him all on my own."

"Well you're the prince," Cody answered, before blushing, as if realizing once again just who he was taking to. "You don't need to know all those things. Your Highness.”

"No," Dan agreed. "But it's interesting to see you doing things that I'd consider impossible." He watched as Isabelle stirred the slightly put together soup, before tossing in a pinch of salt.

And then Dan sighed, looking down at Cody with a frown. "It's also interesting to see you all trying to kill me." There was an abrupt cease of motion in the kitchen, proving that the two girls had been listening to his every word, as he’d expected. "No wonder you failed all those other times. I'm _watching_  you make that soup," he said incredulously. And then he glanced pointedly at the spices in Cody’s hand. “You think I wouldn’t recognize water hemlock?”

Cody tightened his grip around a bag full of water hemlock leaves and seeds, which he’d inevitably planned to toss into the soup.

“I’m a prince,” Dan continued incredulously. “You think I wouldn’t be educated on something as simple as poisonous plants?”

“We’re sorry!” Isabelle immediately piped up, her eyes wide with fear. Allison, however, was now gripping her vegetable knife rather tightly, as if she might charge Dan or simply throw it.

“Put that down,” Dan said sternly, and she paled, quickly setting the knife on the counter and backing away. “Now,” he said calmly, though his heart was actually beating quite violently in his chest. If he hadn’t been paying attention, if he hadn’t been so on alert because of their odd behavior… Dan didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened—he would’ve been killed, obviously, but it was terrifying to think about. “Mind telling me why you want me dead?”

None of the kids looked inclined to speak, all of their lips pressed tightly together. Their fear of being caught was obvious, and he wondered why they’d tried to kill him so blatantly anyway. It was clear that they were desperate, and that they wanted the deed done now. But why not wait? Now that he’d convinced the public that he’d poisoned himself, there were no suspicions of assassins lingering around—these kids were virtually in the clear. Unless they were really too dim to realize this?

“Feeling shy?” Dan prompted with a sneer. Without Phil around, it was easy to revert back to the kind of person he usually was. It was like slipping on a familiar, worn coat, and Dan realized that he had missed this. He knew that he was mean to people, that he said things considered rude and insensitive. But he never did much worse with Phil hanging around, with his mind constantly occupied with thoughts of his friend (or was it boyfriend now?).

But with Phil upstairs asleep, and with Dan’s life very tentatively on the line, it was easy. He felt like the person that actually upset people’s lives, the person that stumbled over a tuft of grass and had the landscapers fired. He felt like the person who sentenced people to be hanged and meant it, the person whose decision could only be changed by his father calmly talking him out of it, until his rage had simmered into something that could be satisfied by exile.

He could see, quite clearly, that these kids noticed the shift. They’d undoubtedly seen him around the castle in their time here, had seen him walking around and yelling at people. But ever since Phil arrived, his yelling and stomping had been reduced to a somewhat smaller amount. And these kids, and likely everyone else in the castle, had taken note of that and probably enjoyed it to its fullest.

But now Dan was back. He was angry and indignant. Who did these children even think they were? How did they think they had the right to attempt to murder him, not just now but multiple times beforehand? The oil on the stairs, the poison in his lunch, even the foxes in the riding grounds! They’d attempted to kill him again and again, and for what? Rage ran swiftly through him and a large part of Dan wished to take a step forward and throttle them all.

He wished he could go back to all the times he’d seen them in the corridors of his castle, simply so he could kick them in the head.

“Fine,” Dan snapped, and he glanced briefly behind himself, towards the door. “You’ll have to stand trial for multiple attempts of murder, not to mention attempts on _royalty_. I suspect you’ll be sentenced to death, although there is some hope for you, the three of you being so young. You might even get a life sentence, depending on how long you survive in our prisons.”

The children were shaking now, and the girls had tears streaming down their cheeks, holding in poorly muffled sobs.

“I’ll just call for my guards,” Dan added, taking a step back towards the kitchen door.

“No!” Cody suddenly pleaded, and Dan raised an eyebrow at him cruelly. “You can’t tell anyone!”

“I can’t tell anyone that it was you three trying to murder me?” Dan asked. Cody nodded vigorously, and Allison and Isabelle clung to each other desperately behind him. “Yeah fucking right.”

“Please!” Allison whispered. “You have to listen to us…”

Dan held up two hands, palms facing the sky. “Listen to the people trying to kill me…” he raised one hand, as if on an invisible scale. “Imprison the people trying to kill me…” his hand sunk, this option weighing the other down. “No, I think I’m going to have to get my guards.”

“Please,” Cody whispered. “Please just… just…”

“Didn’t you understand the consequences of trying to _kill_  someone?” Dan demanded. He had no sympathy for them. They were acting as if they were the ones being wronged, but it had been Dan’s life and safety that was in danger this entire time. How could they have tried to kill him and not thought about the consequences?

“We _had_  to,” Isabelle cried, and Cody shot her a fearful look, meanwhile Allison outright smacked her on the arm.

“Shut up!” Allison hissed, and Isabelle sobbed into her hands.

Dan paused, his anger easing from a boil into a simmer. He couldn’t help but feel as if he was misreading the situation somehow. They were all scared out of their minds, and Isabelle had now said they’d _had_  to. Was this just a trick, a way for them to get Dan into not turning them in? Or was she telling the truth, and there was something that had forced them to do this?

Dan had never gotten the impression that these kids hadn’t liked him, and they’d all appeared beyond anxious while preparing the soup. Plus, there’d been that conversation they’d been having before they’d known Dan was here… something about having run out of time… What if they hadn’t been nervous making the soup because they were aware Dan was there? What if it was because they didn’t want to kill him in the first place?

“Explain,” Dan said, looking directly at Isabelle. She hiccuped but opened her mouth to respond.

“No!” Cody shouted, and when Dan looked at him in alarm, he saw that Cody was facing Isabelle. “You can’t. Isabelle, you _can’t_.”

“But…”

“Izzy,” Allison said softly. “Think about what’ll happen if you do.” Isabelle bit her lip, and Dan saw more tears welling in her eyes, but she directed her gaze to the ground and slumped in on herself. She wouldn’t be telling Dan anything.

Dan tried to think of how people were forced to do things. There were bribes, of course—promises of more money than you could ever hope to wish for. But looking at these kids, Dan knew that wasn’t it. They weren’t greedy or selfish, they were just scared.

Scared, not for themselves, but for someone else, perhaps? It made sense. Another way to force people to do something for you was to threaten them. There was a matter of threatening a person directly, telling them you’ll kill them or tear them apart limb from limb. But then there was the kind of threatening where you threatened people they _loved_ , where you put someone else’s life on the line.

These kids didn’t have the appearance of trying to protect themselves, of being fearful of certain death. They seemed scared because… because… there was someone they wanted to protect.

“If I don’t tell anyone…” Dan began tentatively, and three pairs of eyes looked up at him hopefully. “Then you can’t try to kill me anymore. I don’t care how you get out of it, or if you have to fake it or something, but you can’t try to kill me.” They were all nodding, relieved. “Second,” he continued, “you have to tell me who the real danger is.” All of their faces fell.

“Not right now, but when the danger is greatest—when you think they’re going to come for me somehow else. Then you tell me who’s coming, and I’ll help you protect—” Dan thought about it for a moment. He thought about who all these kids would share an interest in protecting. He thought about Cody saying _no, you can’t, you can’t_  and he thought about these kids wandering into the kitchen in the middle of the night, getting midnight snacks of their own. “Charlotte.”

They all stared at him with wide, wide eyes, and then Cody ran forward and threw his arms around Dan, who stood there uncomfortably for a moment, before wrapping his arms around Cody as well.

“Thank you,” Cody whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Allison and Isabelle were hugging each other now, and Isabelle no longer looked on the verge of collapse.

“Although if I do get suddenly assassinated my guards will know it was you,” Dan promised. He’d be relaying all of tonight’s events to them later.

The kids nodded in understanding, and soon Dan was treading back to his room, his stomach just as empty as before.


	15. Chapter 15

Dan giggled, Phil's presence—as usual—turning him into mush. He was pressed against a hedge in the garden, the branches and leaves tangling in his hair. One of Phil's hands was gripping his hip, the other having snuck under Dan's shirt. He dragged his fingers gently over Dan’s stomach, and Dan felt himself smile, unable to stop himself.

“You're so... soft," Phil conveyed, and Dan snorted, not quite sure whether he should be offended.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, though he was still grinning. He placed his hand on Phil's wrist in a weak attempt to push him off, but Phil resisted, instead sliding his hand even further under Dan's shirt and splaying his fingers out over Dan's stomach.

“Just—I don't know," he laughed. "I mean you're soft. As, like, a person." He seemed just as bewildered to be saying this as Dan felt to be hearing it, and Phil leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. "When you're standing against a hedge and _looking_  at me like that... and letting me touch you... I don't know. You're just—you're soft."

"You're a dork," Dan answered, and he let Phil kiss him, let Phil intertwine their tongues and tug on his lip with his teeth. Dan was fully aware that his hair was becoming some kind of a mess, and he tried to make a mental note to make sure there were no leaves in it when they finally returned to the castle. Unfortunately, it was pretty hard to concentrate on anything other than Phil when he was kissing him.

"Prince Daniel! Prince Dan—"

Dan and Phil jumped apart at the shout, scrambling away from each other and turning to face the newcomer, red-faced.

It was Cody, and his face was just as red as Dan’s, if not more so. "Prince Daniel," he said again, eyes wide.

"Cody," Dan said with a nod. All at once, whatever urgency had been plaguing Cody seemed to return, and he ran forward until he was standing directly in front of Dan.

"You have to run," he instructed. "He's coming, I know he is! Izzy and I were eavesdropping and—well he said—he said that it was time! And that it couldn't wait any longer!"

Phil looked panicked. He'd taken the approach, once Dan had told him of his conversation with Cody in the kitchens, of assuming that any kind of attack wouldn't be happening soon. And he’d been right—up until now, at least. It’d already been a few days since Dan’s midnight wanderings had revealed that his threat of assassination stemmed from some sort of threat directed at these kids. Once hearing that it was Charlotte in danger, Phil had been completely on board with helping to protect them however they could, though he was still a bit peeved that they’d been trying to kill Dan all this time.

The past few days had been rather pleasant, neither of them having to worry about any attempts on Dan’s life. Both sets of his guards knew of the situation, and were also informed to keep their eyes peeled for anyone suspicious looking, for anyone who might’ve been threatening these kids. They’d even entrusted Phil’s guards with the information, who had tried to convince Dan to let them follow them around everywhere for their own safety, despite the fact that Dan had always gotten the vibe that they didn’t like him much. He had never seen them away from Phil’s own bedroom, and Phil had politely declined the offer when it came.

Still, Dan had been hoping it might take a bit longer for whoever was trying to kill him to grow impatient and set out to do it by other means. It’d been nice, relaxing these past few days, enjoying leisure time with Phil, getting to do fun things with him such as walking through the expansive gardens.

Plus, he was thoroughly convinced that both his guards and Cecily knew that he and Phil were… involved with each other. Cecily had stopped bursting into his room at all times of the day, and had even taken to knocking before entering his bedroom. Not to mention that Bentley and Alfonzo always exchanged a /look/ when he and Phil retired to his rooms at night. But they could’ve just been having constant sleepovers! It wasn’t like that actually meant that they were together—not that they /weren’t/ together. He was just a little peeved that everyone had taken to assuming. Plus, didn’t Bentley and Alfonzo _know_  that he could see it when they were exchanging those… those _suggestive_  looks. He wasn’t blind! He knew what they were thinking! And no one should ever, _ever_  be thinking about Dan having sex with somebody else! Ever!

Partially because it was totally and completely improper, but mostly because it made Dan red and hot all over to think about, and Phil didn’t seem to have any qualms about bringing it up. “Think they know we’re doing it?” he’d asked just the night before, their position at the time incredibly… compromising. Dan had abruptly shoved him off after that, horrified, and it had taken Phil more than half an hour’s worth of coaxing and soothing to get him back in the mood, not that it was Dan’s fault.

Suffice to say, Dan would’ve really, really appreciated it if he wasn’t on the verge of getting murdered anytime soon.

"Who is it Cody?" he demanded now, the boy in front of him panting, his eyes wide with fear. Dan guessed it was good to know that the kid was so fearful of him losing his life—no wonder he’d done such a shoddy job of killing Dan himself. "Who's coming?"

“I—It's..." he looked pale and terror-stricken, and his bottom lip found its new home on the inside of his mouth, gnawed on furiously by uneven teeth.

"Who am I defending myself from?" Dan asked again.

"I... I can't say..."

"Cody," Dan said sternly. "You can tell me. You _have_  to tell me, and then I can send my guards to protect your mum. But first, I have to know who's coming."

Cody looked around anxiously, and he finally released his lip as he looked at Dan desperately. “It's the King."

—

Dan's brain couldn't process this. His first assumption was that he had heard wrong, but that didn't explain Phil's sudden gasp, nor the way his hand had come up to clutch Dan’s wrist. His next thought was, surely, not _the_  king? As in, his _father_ , the king. Perhaps Cody meant a different king. But then... why wouldn't he have specified?

Or maybe he was lying. Dan latched onto this thought with sudden surety—of course he was lying! There was no logic behind it. Cody was protecting the identity of whoever was trying to kill Dan, and Dan was going to pummel him for it.

"You have to run!" Cody insisted. "He said 'the time is now' and 'there'll be no going back'. He's coming!”

“You’re lying,” Dan said obstinately, and he yanked his arm out of Phil’s grip. “You’re trying to cover their identity—I won’t fall for your tricks.” Dan widened his stance and crossed his arms, glaring down at the boy, who was looking at Dan, dumbfounded.

“Prince Daniel…”

“My father wouldn’t kill me,” Dan hissed, and he shook his head for good measure, as if to shake the very _thought_  out of his mind. Sure, his father hadn’t seemed too happy about Dan being gay, but he wouldn’t try to kill Dan over something like that. Plus, the assassination attempts had been going on since before Dan’s father knew.

“Dan,” Phil said softly. “Maybe we should listen to him.”

Dan whirled around, hurt and outraged. “Are you kidding?” he demanded. “You’re not… not _believing_  this. Are you?” He felt like the world was spinning wildly beneath his feet, or perhaps the sky was swirling over his head. For some reason, Phil’s answer felt important to him, even though it shouldn’t have been. Dan already knew the answer well enough for himself—knew that his father wasn’t crazy enough to try to kill his own son. Cody was crazy enough to try to trick the crown prince, however.

“I just can’t think of what he would benefit from lying,” Phil said slowly, as if trying to calm a spooked horse. Inappropriately, Dan felt the sudden urge to run to the stables. A ride on his horse would clear his mind of this nonsense, he was sure of it. “And even if he _is_ ,” Phil continued cautiously, “it couldn’t hurt to go prepare ourselves for it.”

Dan felt his bottom lip wobble worryingly. This couldn’t be true—he wouldn’t believe it. “But Phil—” he protested, his voice thick with unshed tears. Dan cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Let’s go, Dan,” Phil persuaded, and he linked his hand easily through Dan’s, his thumb stroking the back of Dan’s hand. “Just in case.”

Dan let out a shaky breath, before he gulped in air, blinking furiously to avoid crying. He glared at Cody then. “You’re dead,” Dan said flatly. “If I find out you’re lying…”

Cody gaped at Dan, and Phil tugged on his hand. “Don’t believe him,” Phil called. “And we’ll protect Charlotte.”

With that, Phil was pulling Dan along more insistently until they were running, the gardens sliding past them much too quickly to be properly appreciated. “I’ll kill him,” Dan muttered furiously as they ran, gravel shifting under their feet. Even as they emerged onto the firmer, stone-laden pathway up to the castle, he grouched. “The nerve of him, lying to me. Me! The prince!”

Phil made all sorts of sounds of soothing agreement, appeasing Dan, but he continued to pull Dan after him as they navigated through the castle, checking around corners before turning down hallways. Dan grudgingly let this happen, though he didn’t believe for a second that his father was actually about to kill him.

Dan made a pained sound when he was lead into the training room, where Phil grabbed two swords. “Phil,” Dan complained, frowning at Phil as he took the sword. It felt easy and familiar in his hand, yet at the same time it was so _heavy_. He didn’t want to have to raise it, to have to use it. He _wouldn’t_  have to. Right? “Isn’t this a little drastic?”

“We’re just being prepared,” Phil said easily, and then they were running from the room, swords swinging (probably dangerously) by their sides. Their next stop was Phil’s room.

“Henry, Clint,” Phil said, coming to a stop in front of his guards. “I need you to go down to the kitchens and find Charlotte—protect her.”

“From what, Your Highness?”

“From anything or anyone that tries to hurt her.”

The guards nodded seriously, following Phil’s orders without hesitation. They hurried off down the hall, armor clanking with every step.

“Now what?” Dan said sullenly. He was all for going and hiding in his quarters. It seemed like a better alternative than anything else, and he was already feeling tired and worn out. Having his own father accused of something so wretched, so horrid, had put Dan through an exhausting emotional turmoil. Right about now he felt ready for a nap, completely prepared to collapse in his bed and pull the covers up over his head.

“We should meet up with Bentley and Alfonzo,” Phil said. “And then we can—” he broke off abruptly, his gaze locked somewhere behind Dan. Fear shot through Dan’s gut, sweeping his drowsiness away in a mere second, and he spun around, half-afraid he would see his father standing there with a sword.

Instead, there was an assortment of people dressed in all black, their faces covered with masks and long, thin swords protruding from their hands.

“Oh shit,” Dan muttered, and he twisted his head around, hoping to perhaps derive a plan with Phil through their eyes alone, only to see more of the figures appearing from the other end of the hall. “Oh _fuck_.”

Phil twisted to look as well and muttered a curse under his breath. He ended up facing them entirely, his back towards Dan as he turned towards one half of the ninja-look-alikes while Dan faced the other.

“Who sent you?” Dan demanded. His own sword was held aloft now, and he pretended not to notice how sweaty his grip on it was. He was starting to feel a bit grateful for all those grueling practice sessions Phil had put him through, as now the sword felt like a familiar and balanced weight in his hand. Still, he’d never beaten Phil—could he possibly beat anyone else?

“Who do you think?” one of the assassins responded, voice deep and gravelly.

“If I fucking knew I wouldn’t have asked,” Dan snarled, though his heart was thundering a fierce rhythm in his ears. Another assassin scoffed.

“The king,” one answered. “The king sent us.” And then they were rushing forward.

Dan had never before been so glad to have Phil at his back. As the assassins approached at a run (Dan counted six of them), he felt completely assured that Phil would protect him from however many approached in the other direction. Phil was an expert with the sword, he could handle this no problem, and so Dan could trust him that easily. But it would be different for Phil, he’d probably be worrying about Dan defending his back, and so Dan resolved to protect him. If he could rely on Phil, then he would make sure that Phil could depend on him as well, whether he knew it or not.

It wasn’t a fair fight, that was for sure. All of the attackers descended at once, their swords swinging cleanly through the air, torch-light glinting off their shining surfaces. Dan moved instinctively, stepped back and around and sideways, parrying blade after blade and attacking with his own.

His opponents were good; they fought well and understood what they were doing, which he supposed was probably required of assassins. They were quick and strong, but surprisingly, Dan found himself just as quick, just as strong.

The melody of their fighting rung out loudly, harsh clangs and sharp squeals of swords sliding against each other bleeding through the air. And they danced to this music, one familiar to all of them, blocking and parrying, shining and swiping, jabbing and slashing.

Occasionally Dan would step back, only to bump lightly into Phil. The sound of fighting from the other side of him, the shouts of injury and protest of the men Phil was fighting, reminded Dan that he was not alone, not to mention the actual pressure of Phil’s body against his when these moments happened. It sounded like Phil was winning, and Dan fought more vigorously because of it. He could and would protect Phil.

Dan’s first victory came in the form of tripping one of his attackers. It wasn’t very sportsmanlike, which was maybe why they all seemed so shocked when the man suddenly went down, only to have Dan’s sword pierce flesh, drawing blood. Dan pushed away a momentary bout of _oh my God_  and _fuck fuck fuck_  and the vague feeling that he might throw up, and pushed on. There was no time to think about what he’d done, to consider the fact that he’d probably just taken a life, and still had to take five more, unless they were to surrender.

The battle continued with a new kind of atmosphere then, one that spoke of the possibility of death and the graveness of it all. Surreally, Dan registered the fact that not even two minutes had passed. It was all happening so fast, but when he pulled his mind out of the action, out of the adrenaline, he was aware of the passage of time.

He heard loud clangs and running foot steps, and Dan momentarily feared that the attackers had back up. He wasn’t sure that he could hold off more than he already was. Not to mention the fact that he would have to start killing—or at least disabling—the rest of them soon, otherwise he’d be not only surrounded but drained of energy.

Dan managed to shove his sword through another attacker, swallowing thickly, when Alfonzo and Bentley sprinted from around the corner, obviously due to all the noise of the fight.

“Holy shit!” Bentley cried, and if Dan had had breath to spare he would’ve questioned whether Bentley had more class—after all, it was rude to curse in front of the prince. As it was, however, his breaths to waste were starting to become precious little, and so he clamped down on the part of him that desired to make that comment and forged on.

His guards were quick to join the fray, drawing their swords and diving into the fighting with vigor. Thankfully, a few of Dan’s opponents turned to face them instead, and Dan found himself having less swords to contend with, which worked out well for his killing the rest of them.

The fight ended a lot sooner with Alfonzo and Bentley helping, and soon there were bodies dispatched all around them, blood seeping across the stone and making Dan clench his eyes shut, feeling like his insides had just been shaken viciously before being put back inside of him.

“Thanks for the help,” Phil said calmly, and Dan opened his eyes in time to see his guards shrugging easily.

“No problem,” Alfonzo said, and he looked over at Bentley, as if checking him for injuries. Dan blinked, and then did the same to Phil, infinitely relieved to see him looking completely fine.

“I can’t believe we lived through that,” Dan admitted, and Phil grinned widely at him.

“You could say I’m an amazing sword master,” he said cockily. “The best teacher around.”

“Don’t make me slice you,” Dan warned, and Phil grinned.

“You wouldn’t be able to get me.”

“No, but I defeated a billion assassins,” Dan pointed out. “Isn’t that about as good as beating you? Can’t you tell me why you came to Hirona yet?” He was hopeful and a bit desperate. And he was at least halfway sure that his father was trying to kill him, so he thought that maybe he deserved to know.

Dan was barely aware of Alfonzo and Bentley watching on in fascination, but he looked at Phil incredulously as he snorted, and began to laugh.

“What?” Dan demanded, and it took Phil a while to find his composure, but he finally shook his head fondly and grinned.

“You’re an idiot,” he informed, and Dan stared at him in confusion. “I came to Hirona because I _missed_  you, you colossal spoon.”

Dan’s mouth dropped open and his face flushed red. “You made me wait _all this time_ —” he began, before remembering that Alfonzo and Bentley were watching this entire exchange, and he turned red all over again. “And you can’t just _say_  that!”

“Why not?”

“Wha— _you just can’t_!”

“Although this is very cute,” Alfonzo interrupted, and Dan spun to face him, eyes wide and face flushed. “We should really be arresting somebody right about now.”

Dan’s lungs squeezed themselves into his throat. He couldn’t find it in him to say the words—probably because they most likely weren’t even true. Unable to speak, he shrugged desperately, until Phil spoke up.

“The king,” he said gravely, and he received looks that promised he was saying something crazy.

“We can’t arrest the _king_ …” Bentley muttered, and Phil fixed him with a stern look.

“Well if you don’t, someone’s going to try to kill Dan again.” Bentley looked distinctly troubled at this news, and Dan struggled to speak around the lungs still in his throat.

“But—well, we can’t know for _sure_ ,” he protested, and for some reason he said this to Alfonzo, looking at him a bit desperately. “And it would hardly make sense either,” he continued, finding his stride. “In fact, I’m positive that it wasn’t my father. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t try to k-kill me.”

Alfonzo was looking at him pityingly now, and not liking that look, Dan shifted his gaze to Bentley instead—where he found the same exact one. Desperate, he looked to Phil, almost pleading. “Right?” he whispered.

“Capture first, ask questions later,” Alfonzo decided. “And come to think of it, he’ll have to have a trial.”

—

The king sat tall and proud atop the wooden chair, looking almost lazy with chains adorning his wrists and ankles. He sat as if he was in his own throne, and he stared at the assembled court in the same way, as any king would. He looked empowered and mighty—just looking at him gave Dan the urge to run forward and release him. His father didn't belong in chains, he was the king! Of course, knowing what he'd done… Or, supposedly done… Everyone seemed completely convinced, but Dan wasn’t having it. He was sure some evidence would be scrounged up to prove everyone otherwise, but until then…

Dan swallowed. None of this seemed real. It was more like he was dreaming, and soon he would wake up and wonder why he'd been so thoroughly convinced that all these outrageous events were actually happening.

The court wasn't silent. There was murmuring from all corners, confusion radiating from everyone gathered. They didn't know why their king was in chains, and Dan could understand the fear and confusion they were probably feeling. He felt it too.

It felt odd, being seated on the court’s throne. It wasn't his place to sit—he'd never even thought about sitting on it before. He'd known he would sit on it one day, but by then his father would be old and done with his duties, and Dan would probably have a child of his own. That's what he'd always thought, anyway.

The judge, Benson, had advised Dan to sit here for the duration of the trial. He’d said it would act as a symbol, would show that Dan had power and prestige, that even though the people's king was in chains, they weren't without a replacement. Hearing that had sent shivers the entire way down Dan's spine. He felt a little sick to his stomach, having it implied that _he_  would be king. He didn’t need to be king, they had a perfectly good one already, if it could just be proven that he was innocent.

He knew, logically, that one day he would be king—but that day wasn’t today.

Dan felt horribly exposed sitting on the throne. He could feels hundreds of eyes on him, darting between him and his father and wondering _why, why, why_. Even worse was the fact that he couldn't have Phil with him. Benson had said it would look unprofessional, and unfortunately, Dan could see the implications it would give if Phil were sitting up here with him. And so soon after he'd publicly come out too...

It was hard to believe that that had been mere days ago. Mere days when Dan hadn't been in a relationship with Phil. When everyone hadn't suggested that his father was trying to kill him.

"All rise," Benson said suddenly, standing in the middle of the court, only a little ways in front of Dan's father. Dan looked anxiously across the court, looking for Phil for reassurance. He was seated beside Charlotte, who was crying quietly into a handkerchief (having been informed of everything thus far), along with all the other servants who'd come to the trial. Their seats were on the inner ring of the court, and behind them, and circling the rest of the area, were the stands in which the public sat. It continued in a ring around the room, stopping only behind Dan. It'd be rude to sit behind the king—or in this case, the king's throne.

The court rose, excluding Dan and his father. Dan, because he was in the position of the king, and he needn't rise with everyone else, and his father because he was quite unable to do so.

"I'm sure that many of you are confused and afraid to be gathered here today, to see your king in chains. But it is with good reason. The king you see before you is not fit to be a king, as he is guilty of attempted regicide." Benson paused, during which the audience gasped, and voices rose, before silencing as Benson continued. "Through the use of threats, King Howell has coerced three children working in the castle to assassinate his own son, Prince Daniel. They are here to testify."

Dan watched silently as the trial continued like this, professional and dramatic, the crowd crying out in all the right places. Cody and the girls told their story of the king threatening to kill Charlotte through a series of stutters and anxious looks at him, after which they scurried back to Charlotte's side, as if to make sure that she hadn't managed to be killed in their time away from her.

The judge didn’t call on Dan to testify, and he knew why. He’d obviously been informed of Dan’s wavering belief, of his suspicion that his father wasn’t really guilty. Of course, Dan could stand and testify if he wanted without having to be called forward, but he didn’t want to, for some reason.

Throughout the entire trial, his father said nothing, didn't bother to defend himself or call others forward to do it for him. No, he simply sat there and looked comfortable, as if his wrists and ankles weren't aching from the pressure of the chains, as if the sturdy wooden chair was a chaise he was lounging in.

"King Howell," Benson said, once everyone had testified. Dan could tell that the court’s favor was leaning incredibly towards guilty, and he wondered if his father would call anyone to the stand in his defense. "How do you plead?"

The king smiled. "Not guilty." There was an outcry, of course. The crowd was furious. "Of the crimes I'm accused of," he added, once the clamor had died down a little.

"Your Highness?" Benson questioned. Even when on trial of attempted murder, he was the king. He demanded respect.

"I wasn't trying to kill my son," he said easily, and he sent a lazy glance in Dan's direction. Dan felt his heart lift, having known it the whole time. His father would never try to kill him! "I love my son, I dote on him. I would never wish him dead. If I did, why would I use inexperienced children to do so?” He was still making eye contact with Dan, and Dan found himself nodding. Yes. _Yes_. Nobody would come up with such an idiotic plan for an assassination! Especially not a king, someone much too smart to do so.

There was a moment of silence before the crowd began murmuring again. After all, that made perfect sense.

“No, I was not trying to kill my son,” his father continued. “Just his friend.”

There was abrupt, immediate silence, and Dan blinked in confusion. His… what?

For some reason, his father continued without even being asked. “Telling the children to kill my son, of course, was only meant to look like failed attempts, the suspicion immediately casted onto the Prince of Leona.” _Because of you,_  Dan thought numbly. “I had good faith that my son would be readily able to avoid mediocre assassination attempts. Of course, after he saved Leona’s Prince from execution at his trial, my plans were set back a bit…”

Dan’s head was swirling with the sudden influx of information, of revelations. What was his father _saying_? It was preposterous! Wasn’t it?

This whole time, he’d thought his own life was in danger when it had really been Phil’s? He wondered, suddenly, if the attackers he’d been fighting in the hall had been going easy on him, having no real intentions to kill him, only Phil. Dan felt sick.

“Why?” Dan spluttered, staring at his father in astonishment. His gaze slipped past, to the other side of the room where Phil was sitting, looking pale and overwhelmed.

“King Lester would be distraught if he lost his own son,” his father answered easily. “It’s never difficult to kill an injured king.”

“For what _purpose_?” Dan demanded. This was all so… ridiculous! He could hardly believe his ears, and yet it all struck him as truth. It made perfect sense, examined from an outside perspective. Dan hardly had time to examine it from any perspective but his own, however, and his perspective was hurt and scared and worried for Phil.

“No king’s kingdom is big enough,” his father replied. His eyes very clearly conveyed that he expected this to be something Dan would understand in due time, as if Dan would become as crazy as him, would go through such drastic measures as him.

“You’re crazy,” Dan said simply, the plain and simple truth. His father was mad. There was nothing more to it. “Why’d you tell us all this, anyway?” Dan demanded. “We wouldn’t have figured out the truth on our own, so why tell us?”

“Because,” the king said simply. “I could tell for some time now that this wasn’t a battle I would win. I have no desire to live in a too small kingdom, and if I’m going to die anyway, I might as well tell you the whole truth.” Dan still didn’t understand. So what, he’d get to live the rest of his life knowing just how much of an asshole his father truly was?

“You look confused,” his father said gently. “Let me spell it out for you—those you love will never be safe. You’ll constantly have to be on guard if you wish for them to live. It’s better to understand that it’s just not worth it. It’s better to have no loved ones at all than having to always suffer in fear of them dying—I’ve done you a favor, giving both you and Prince Philip a taste of that.”

“That’s wretched,” Dan answered.

“To someone with a weak mind, perhaps. Didn’t you ever wonder what had happened to your mother?”

Dan paused, horror-struck. He could barely remember his mother, had never really thought much of her. All he’d known was that she’d left. One day he’d had a mother, and the next he hadn’t. He’d assumed she had left the family, had gone far away from them.

Knowing now, though, that his father had killed her… Dan felt as if there were a weight on his chest. He wondered if anyone had ever even realized she was dead. If anyone had stopped to wonder, if only for a moment…

“The king is guilty of all admitted crimes,” the judge suddenly chimed in, his voice loud and ringing out around the courtroom. “He is sentenced to death, his execution to take place immediately after the trial’s proceedings.”

There were plenty of cheers from the crowd, and Dan just felt numb as the trial wound to a close, as his father was unchained from the chair only to be led from the room. He walked indolently, relaxed, and Dan found himself having to look away. He didn’t care much for getting a last glimpse of his father anyway—not after all he’d learned.

He was thankful for the trial’s end, however, because he found himself wrapped in Phil’s arms, the both of them finding comfort in each other. Everything would be okay—of course it would, when they had each other. And Dan’s father was wrong—everyone was scared for their loved ones, and it was because of this fear, driven by love, that they would do anything to protect them, and in exchange would be protected _by_  them. There was no power gained from eliminating the ones you loved, only power lost, and thankfully the two of them were smart enough to realize that.

Dan realized, a bit slowly, that his father must’ve come to the conclusion that they were in love at some point in time. He also realized that his father had known that he was blatantly lying through Phil’s entire trial, when he’d claimed to have poisoned himself. Vaguely, Dan wondered if it was because of that that he’d realized they were in love.

Sure, he’d been trying to kill Phil since the beginning (…through Dan, which Dan felt was possibly unnecessarily complicated, but also possibly completely genius. After all, if Phil had actually attempted murder on Dan, and had had to be hanged because of it, then their kingdom would receive no blame for doing so), but his comment about “doing it for them”, so that they’d realize the horror of having loved ones and the fear of losing them, must’ve been a somewhat new ideology—something that just happened to fit in with the rest of it.

Not much time passed after half the court followed the judge and the executioner and his father through the castle—presumably to watch the execution—and the time they returned. And when they did, there was a long, long moment of silence. And then:

“Long live the king,” one person said. And it was repeated, again and again, until it was one steady wave and Dan was looking around the court with a mix of horror and awe as people— _his_  people—knelt before him.

Phil squeezed his hand before kneeling along with everybody else, his head bowed respectfully before Dan, the new king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! there’s only two chapters left, and one of them is the epilogue! if you’ve been wondering about any loose ends of have been wanted to see a certain thing wrapped up, feel free to leave a comment about it! i most likely already have it planned, but there’s always the possibility that i’ve missed something small that you guys would like to see all tied up :] 
> 
> also, this is just a huge thank you in general for everyone who's been reading thus far! and i'm so grateful for all your comments!! i read them all in my email whenever they come in and it's basically the best thing ever - i'll be in like, the line in a store, and one comes in and my heart is just like !!! so thank you <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i was gonna upload this on wednesday but im bored and it's spring break so!! early update! there's still two chapters after this - this was originally gonna be a part of the next chapter but it would've gotten two long and disjointed and there would've been TWO sex scenes.
> 
> also, because i've seen a couple of comments that've reminded me i've yet to tell you: after arp is finished i'm going to be starting my next chaptered fic! it's called Cat and Mouse and i've yet to disclose what it's about *waggles eyebrows* BUT it's going to be a whole lot of fun and i'm really excited for it and i've already written the first chapter (like, two weeks ago. oops.). anyway, if you're feeling lost after arp, never fear! the very next saturday i'll be uploading the first chapter of cam, so stay tuned if you'd like to continue on this writing adventure with me :]

Dan didn’t want to _think_. He didn’t want to think about that fact that he was supposedly now king (he was suspended in a state of shock, and he hadn’t really dared to believe it yet). He didn’t want to think about how the man he had looked up to, and loved, had been so wicked and cruel at heart for so long. He didn’t want to think about the influx of responsibilities he was suddenly saddled with, dealing with his kingdom, helping his citizens, communicating with his neighboring kingdoms. He didn’t want to think about how, technically, he wasn’t supposed to be in his rooms right now, but in the king’s quarters instead. He didn’t want to think about anything at all.

Thankfully, Phil was prepared to help him with that. He came with Dan to his rooms without Dan even having to ask, the both of them leaving the courtroom with Dan in a state of numb shock. Alfonzo and Bentley didn’t bother to tease him about bringing Phil back to his rooms either, only giving him sympathetic looks. Bentley even reached over and patted Dan on the shoulder, and Dan was surprised to find himself leaning into the touch.

“Are you okay?” Phil asked quietly, as they traipsed further into his rooms.

“I don’t know,” Dan answered honestly. “I’m—trying not to think about anything, actually.”

Phil stepped forward and pulled Dan into his arms, letting Dan rest his weight against him, letting him breathe in Phil’s familiar and intoxicating scent. Phil pressed a soft kiss against his forehead, and Dan hummed.

“What do you want to do?” Phil whispered. “I could read to you, if you want. Or set up a bath.”

“Let’s have sex,” Dan suggested instead. He felt Phil stiffen slightly in surprise, before he chuckled and ran his hands over Dan’s back.

“I’m not sure if that’s the best idea,” he said slowly, pulling away from Dan slightly to look in his eyes. “So much has happened today, and you’re bound to be feeling the stress…”

“But I don’t want to think about it,” Dan argued. “And I definitely won’t be able to think about anything else when I’m seeing you naked.”

Phil blinked, and his pupils dilated with arousal, before he shook his head fondly. “I can’t believe you’re talking me into this.”

“Stop talking and start touching,” Dan commanded, and Phil pressed a laugh into his hair, before his hands were sliding underneath Dan’s shirt. His fingers were cold against Dan’s warm stomach, and goosebumps rose all along where they touched, though still Dan found himself arching into his touch.

Slowly, Phil mouthed along Dan’s neck, starting at a sensitive spot just behind his ear. His breath was warm against Dan, and it made the rest of his body shiver in comparison, though that might’ve just been because of how good it felt. His tongue darted out and flicked against Dan’s neck, and he found himself gasping, his fingers tightening momentarily on Phil’s arms.

“I love how sensitive your neck is,” Phil murmured into his ear. In response, Dan tilted his head, trying to nonverbally get Phil to return his mouth to Dan’s skin. Phil thankfully did as such, and he sucked on Dan’s skin before lapping over it, his mouth hot but the air of the room cold on the saliva he left behind.

Dan was already hard, which wasn’t much of a surprise. Phil could probably arch his eyebrow in Dan’s direction at the right moment and Dan would be turned on. He pressed himself against Phil, appreciating the hum Phil let out against his neck.

Dan rucked Phil’s shirt up against his chest, delighting in the feel of Phil’s bare skin against his hands. He sacrificed having Phil continue working his magic against his neck in order to tug Phil’s shirt over his head, and Phil took the opportunity to do the same with Dan’s.

“Can I top?” Dan panted, already unbuttoning Phil’s trousers. Once the clasp was undone, he grew impatient and shoved his hand into Phil’s pants entirely, Phil warm and hard to the touch. He dragged his eyes back up to Phil’s, unable to help the smirk that graced his lips as Phil’s eyes fluttered as he moved his hand.

“God, you can do anything as long as you keep doing that,” Phil moaned, and his hand came up to grip the waistband of Dan’s trousers. Not to tug them off or anything, but just for something to hold on to. His eyes had fallen closed while his mouth hung open, and Dan watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly, Dan having just run his thumb over his tip.

Phil was completely unguarded in his reactions, which was one thing Dan loved. Usually, Dan couldn’t help feeling self-conscious about what he did while they were having sex, at least for the beginning part—when he’d yet to succumb to pleasure and still had a bit of a hold on his rationality. He would keep his hips pinned to the mattress instead of bucking up into Phil’s touch, and he would bite down on his lip, would swallow his moans instead of letting Phil hear them.

Phil moaned softly as Dan slid his hand further down to massage his balls, his other hand coming up to shove Phil’s trousers out of the way entirely, annoyed with the way they were obstructing Dan’s movements.

 _You look amazing like this_ , Dan wanted to say. Phil looked disheveled, and his chest was flushed, his face drawn in an expression of pleasure. Dan didn’t say it though, his cheeks flushing at the thought of uttering it, though he resolved to one day. He was slowly becoming more and more confident with his and Phil’s intimate encounters, and he didn’t doubt that one day he’d be able to lay on his bed, completely naked, without feeling a smidge of embarrassment while Phil’s gaze slowly dragged over him. And maybe by then he’d be able to say something dirty too, something like, _when you moan like that it makes me want your hands inside me_  or _I want you to watch me while I touch myself._

Instead, Dan said with his hands what he couldn’t with his mouth, letting them move fleetingly over Phil’s body, over his chest and thighs and his hot, hard arousal.

“Fuck, Dan,” Phil gasped, and he reached down and yanked Dan’s hand away from him. “I won’t last much longer if you keep doing that.”

Dan couldn’t help moaning at the thought of that, and he pressed himself against Phil for a kiss, suddenly desperate all over again. Phil’s hands worked at his belt while they kissed, and Dan gasped loudly into his mouth when Phil’s hand wrapped around him, gracing him with a few strokes that made him feel dizzy before pushing his trousers further down. They both struggled out of their pants, none too gracefully, before climbing onto the bed together.

“Lube?” Dan questioned, looking around desperately. Phil groaned in annoyance, and they both participated in a desperate scramble that resulted in the covers of the bed on the floor, the bedside table thoroughly searched through (the drawer pulled out of the table completely), and the bathroom cabinets destroyed before Dan found it under the bed, the small container having rolled behind one of the legs.

“Found it!” he called, half under the bed with one leg up near his chest—a result of his desperate squirm under the bed when he’d seen what might’ve been the needed lube—and the other protruding out from under it.

Suddenly, hands were pressed against his arse, groping and squeezing, and Dan was making a surprised sounding squeak that he would definitely deny when Phil teased him for it later. One of Phil’s hands squirmed under his body and wrapped around his cock for a few hard pulls, which Dan couldn’t help jerking into, before his voice said gruffly, “Hurry up then!”

“Can’t move—” Dan gasped, “when you _touch me_  like that.” With that, Phil’s hands removed themselves and Dan was shuffling horribly awkwardly out from under the bed, his face red, hair a mess, and cock flushed and pressed against his stomach, a string of precome glinting in the torch light.

“Bed,” Phil managed to get out, before they were both scrambling back onto the mattress, the blankets forgotten on the floor, and the lid of the lube being hastily unscrewed between them. Soon enough, Dan’s fingers were lathered in the smooth substance, and his dry hand was pushing Phil back on the mattress as he scooted closer in between his legs.

For Dan, this was the most embarrassing part about sex. He realized that none of it was even supposed to be embarrassing, the fact that it was an intimate moment between himself and the man he loved, but he couldn’t help the red flush and flustered nature he took on when it was time for one of them to put their fingers inside the other. For some reason it just seemed so personal. It was such an intimate part of themselves, and their hands were something that they used every day for any menial kind of task—and yet they put them _there_.

“Come on, Dan,” Phil panted. “No time for a crisis right now.” Dan flushed, and he tilted his head down, letting his hair hang over his eyes and effectively obstruct his view of Phil, as he slid his fingers over Phil’s puckered skin and carefully pressed one inside. Phil spread his legs out wider for him, and Dan shuffled even closer, working him slowly and carefully.

“Okay?” Dan asked, although at this point he already knew it was. Phil was panting, although it almost looked like he was trying not to, and his chest was rising and falling heavily where he lay on the bed.

“Yeah, definitely,” Phil gasped, and he choked on his breath as Dan pressed against his prostate, before arching into Dan’s hands and trying to get him to do it again. Phil looked amazing like this—he looked amazing all the time, to be honest, but he looked especially good during sex. Usually he was all cocky and controlled and seemed infinitely more stable and prepared than Dan, but during sex he fell apart just as easily.

“‘M ready,” Phil slurred, and he grabbed Dan’s wrist and pulled his fingers out of him. “Want you now.”

“God you’re hot,” Dan couldn’t help saying, going red immediately after, and Phil’s eyes fluttered open to look at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Says you,” Phil rebutted, his eyes eating Dan up, sliding so slowly over his exposed skin that he felt he couldn’t move. Phil’s gaze burned, and when his eyes finally returned to Dan’s, he had to mentally shake himself of its weight.

Trying to ignore the way Phil made him feel, the way his heart tried to squeeze out of his ribs and the way his cock throbbed when Phil so much as looked at him, he slathered the lube over himself.

He went slowly, always a little amazed by the fact that he could even fit in there, and that Phil was willing to let him. He could feel himself shaking at the feeling of Phil around him, the heat and the pressure, _tight hot tight_.

“Fuck,” Dan gasped out, and Phil smiled blearily up at him, his eyes glazed over in pleasure, his hair sweaty and pushed up out of his face. Dan, almost absent mindedly, reached down to stroke Phil, knowing that this part usually made his erection flag a little, as the pressure and pain overwhelmed the pleasure for a few moments. He was pleased to find Phil still hard, though he stroked him anyway, gasped when Phil bucked into his hand and caused Dan to slide completely into him, all at once.

“I love the way you look when you fuck me,” Phil breathed, and Dan’s eyes snapped open and he hastily shut his mouth, which had been hanging open as he panted in pleasure. Dan groaned and doubled over, hiding his face in Phil’s knee.

“Fuck, Phil,” he whined. “You can’t just _say_  that.”

“I can say whatever I want,” Phil disagreed, before squeezing around him, the sudden influx of pressure making Dan jerk further inside him with a gasp.

“I hate you,” Dan whispered, but he slid out and back in and tried desperately to keep his face from looking like he was going to have a sex-induced aneurysm.

“You love me,” Phil replied easily, and he reached up and ran his finger over Dan’s nipple before tugging on it, and Dan stuttered into Phil.

“I love you,” Dan hastily agreed, and he began fucking Phil in earnest, his fingers gripping tight on Phil’s hips. Dan couldn’t help the low moans that escaped him with every few strokes, and Phil didn’t even bother to try to stop his.

Phil’s head tossed and turned on the pillow behind him, gasping when Dan thrusted into his prostate.

“Getting close, Dan,” Phil conveyed, and Dan nodded heavily, thankful. He was already well on his way to an orgasm, and it was good to know that Phil wasn’t far behind. He reached down and wrapped his hand around Phil again, pumping him quickly as he fucked into him, his strokes hard and even.

Phil came first with a cry, and the feeling of him tightening around Dan as he did sent Dan over the edge as well, had him pounding into Phil a few more times before he came, moaning and gripping Phil as close to him as he could. After, they lay hot and sweaty and panting against each other, before Dan finally felt the strength return to his muscles and he could gather the energy to pull out of Phil and collapse beside him.

Phil immediately turned to face him, and they cuddled into each other, their legs intertwined and their breaths soft and even in the air between them.

“Thanks,” Dan whispered, and Phil hummed.

“For what?”

“For helping me not think.”

“Mmm,” he murmured. “Anytime. Love you.”

“Might have a mental breakdown later, though,” Dan informed sleepily, before closing his eyes and pressing himself more firmly against Phil, wanting to absorb his body heat.

“And I’ll be here when you do,” Phil promised, and he pressed a kiss to Dan’s forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! i know, two notes in one chapter? how unlike me!
> 
> i'm aware that a lot of you rn are probably going ,,, top??? dan ??? thef uck??? but stop!! recently me and kali (melancholymango on twitter/wattpad, if you know her) have been thinking and like, it's kind of weird that you never see phanfics where they switch?? in other fandoms they switch all the time and i was kind of feeling deprived. i want both dan AND phil to experience all kinds of firsts, and i think it's kind of weird and maybe heteronormative that we've shoved them into these boxes and everyone just accepts it (feels kind of like a hivemind to me). 
> 
> ANYWAY, i hope you enjoyed this even if top!dan isn't your thing. i think it was one of my better smut scenes so hopefully you weren't just feeling repulsed the whole time or something! if you're gonna complain to me in the comments i might be bratty just forewarning you now haha


	17. Chapter 17

It was probably safe to say that Dan was panicking. He could feel his entire body shaking as he laid there with his eyes clenched shut, trying to continue to clutch his last dregs of sleep. Because being awake meant _acknowledging_  everything that had happened in the past hours, and Dan felt a larger affinity with say, throwing up, rather than doing that.

“Dan?” Phil’s voice whispered, and his hand came up and settled on Dan’s shoulder. Dan said nothing, his body curled into a tight ball. “Oh, Dan.” Phil was quick to scoot closer to him, to wrap his body around his and just comfort him through the contact of warm skin.

They were both naked, but Dan—for once—didn’t feel at all out of place or embarrassed about it. “It’ll be okay,” Phil said softly. His thumb had taken to slowly stroking Dan’s hip where it rested beneath the blankets. Dan still didn’t respond. His stomach felt tight and uncomfortable with nerves, and there was this wretched crawling sensation all along his spine. He wasn’t cut out to be king!

As if matters weren’t bad enough, Cecily suddenly arrived in the doorway and her eyes widened to the size of their royal dinner plates as she took in the sight of them naked in bed together. Dan was grateful, at least, that the blankets were covering his waist.

Distantly, he felt kind of indignant that Cecily had barged in, and he figured that he should probably be feeling horrified and embarrassed at the fact that she was seeing this. Under normal circumstances, he’d likely be half way to firing her—or having her hanged.

Instead, he found that he could hardly drudge up any emotion at all, his entire being just overwhelmed with dread and fear. There was simply no room for embarrassment.

Dan turned over in Phil’s arms and pressed his face into his chest, set on ignoring the maidservant.

“Er—is he okay?” Cecily asked tentatively. Dan felt like he should be bristling with anger— _don’t talk about me as if I’m not here!_ —but he wasn’t. He just clung to Phil even tighter, his fingers digging into Phil’s warm, bare skin.

“He’s a little shaken,” Phil answered honestly. Hearing this, Dan understood that it was quite true. He realized then that his cheeks were wet with silent tears, though he had no clue when they’d first appeared.

“Prin—Your Highness,” Cecily said. “You should get up. There are advisers here to speak with you, and there’s some paperwork as well…”

Dan let out a sob into Phil’s chest, who wrapped his arms around Dan more firmly and drew him closer. Dan was vaguely aware of a kiss being pressed against his forehead.

He didn’t even notice that Cecily had left the room, not until she came back, more voices following behind her.

“Is the prince okay?” Bentley was saying.

“ _King_ ,” Alfonzo corrected, and Dan flinched in Phil’s arms. Oh God, the _king_. He couldn’t be the king! He hardly knew anything about being king!

“Out of my way,” a familiar, stern voice butt in. “The king needs a nutritional breakfast!” Dan then found himself with a room full of guards, a maidservant, and a cook—all of whom he’d never wanted to see him naked in bed.

“I brought eggs,” Charlotte informed, stepping closer to the bed. Dan closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of Phil. At least that, in the midst of everything that had changed, had stayed the same.

“I don’t think we’ve ever seen the king naked before,” Bentley said cheerfully, and Dan felt his entire body go red.

“Get out of my room!” he croaked, pressing his face more firmly into Phil’s chest in an attempt to not have to look at anyone else.

“No can do, Your Highness,” Alfonzo said solemnly. “You’re in desperate need of moral support.”

“I have moral support,” Dan answered, squeezing said moral support tighter as he did.

“Yeah, by the balls from the look of it,” Bentley muttered.

“Get out!” Dan cried in outrage. “I’m the prince!”

“King,” Alfonzo correct.

“There’s the prince we know and love,” Cecily sighed.

“King,” Alfonzo corrected. Dan groaned loudly.

Finally, Dan sat up, the covers still thankfully hiding his modesty, and he glared at the gathered crowd. He could tell that his hair was a mess atop his head, and he could feel the heat climbing up his chest and neck, surely turning red. This was no way for his people to see the king. Phil’s hand was resting on his back, which while though comforting, was also a glaring remind that Dan was _naked_.

“You have to stop calling me that,” Dan said finally, shooting a look at Alfonzo. “I—I’m not cut out to be the king. I can’t…”

“Bullshit, Your Highness,” Bentley interrupted. Dan stared at him in astonishment. You couldn’t say _bullshit_  to the king! “You _are_  cut out for this. And it’s not like you’re alone—we’ll all be here to help you.” He gestured at everyone gathered.

“I—okay,” Dan said, staring wide-eyed at everyone. He’d agreed more out of astonishment than anything else. “Okay.”

“Alright!” Charlotte said, clapping her hands together and drawing everyone’s attention. “Now that that’s all settled, I suggest you go and get dressed, Your Highness. I’ve seen enough naked seventeen-year-old for today.”

Dan blushed spectacularly, and he drew the comforters more tightly over himself. “I didn’t ask for you all to come barging in here!” he cried. “I—this is my _private room_! I can do whatever I want in here!”

“ _Who_ ever he wants…” Bentley muttered, and Dan picked up a pillow and chucked it at the guard’s head. It hit him straight in the face and sent him stumbling backwards, Alfonzo laughing heartily all the while.

“ _Get out_!” Dan shouted, and thankfully, finally, everyone filed out, though Charlotte placed his breakfast tray on a table first, and waved cheekily as she left.

Flustered, red-faced, and finally alone, Dan threw himself backwards with a long, drawn-out groan. Phil laughed and rolled on top of him, placing kisses all over Dan’s face.

“I promise you’ll be a great king, Dan,” Phil assured. One of his hands had found its way into his hair and was playing with the curly strands, which felt so good Dan closed his eyes and hummed.

“Or I’ll ruin my entire kingdom.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Phil laughed, and Dan couldn’t help smiling in response.

A moment passed, and then: “I can’t believe they all saw us naked in bed together,” Dan huffed. Phil didn’t seem too bothered.

“They already knew we were doing it anyway.”

Dan spluttered something in response, and Phil laughed loudly before kissing him again.

“I’ll never be able to look them in the face again,” Dan despaired. “Bentley said ‘ _bullshit_ ’ to me!”

All these things Dan saw as problems Phil seemed to think was funny, and soon enough he was dragging Dan out of bed and leading him towards his closet to get dressed, where some of Phil’s clothes had started appearing as well, for some reason. Phil hugged him from behind as they stood in the doorway to his closet, examining the options before them.

“First day as king,” Phil said suddenly. “You gonna wear a poncy cape?” Dan elbowed him in the gut, not feeling guilty even when Phil let out a groan.

“Yep,” Dan answered. “And so are you.”

“No I’m not.”

“Phil,” Dan said dramatically, and he tilted his head back to meet Phil’s gaze without having to turn around. “In the last twenty four hours I have been nearly murdered, found out that my father wanted to kill my boyfriend, and had my father sentenced to death. I am now _king_. You have to wear this cape if you wish to make me happy.”

Ten minutes later, Phil was messing grumpily with the ties around his throat, glaring into the mirror. “You are the most pretentious, whiny, _manipulative_ —”

“It’s not polite to badmouth a king, dear,” Dan said, appearing behind him in the mirror and raking his eyes over Phil’s form. “Mmm. You look good in my clothes.”

Phil, vengefully, said, “And you look good naked.” Dan cursed himself as he—predictably—blushed violently. He pinched Phil’s side in retaliation.

“I think you should come with me to all my meetings and things today,” Dan suggested, trying to seem nonchalant. It wasn’t like he was _anxious_  about them, or anything. Not like he was feeling _overwhelmed_. He just, you know… wanted company. And wasn’t feeling scared. At all.

“Really?” Phil questioned, eyebrows raised. “Isn’t there going to be like—secret king stuff in those meetings? You’re really going to let me hear a bunch of Hirona’s secrets?”

“Sure, why not?” Dan shrugged. “Our kingdoms are allied, anyway. Plus, you know, maybe one day…”

“Maybe one day what?”

“I just—maybe…”

“What?”

“Um.” Dan glanced at the clock. “We’re going to be late!” he realized. It was Phil’s fault, of course, for refusing to get dressed for so long. They both rushed towards the door, shoving bits of toast into their mouths as they did, surprising Alfonzo and Bentley as they hurtled past them.

“Woah!” Alfonzo said, jumping backwards. “That seems more like the Dan we know.”

“Good luck today, Your Highness!” Bentley called, before Dan could demand, outraged, since when Alfonzo had been calling him _Dan_.

“‘Fanks!” Dan yelled around a mouthful of toast.

They sprinted down the corridor, their capes fluttering behind them as they did. Phil couldn’t pretend not to like that, Dan was sure. It just looked so _cool_.

As they ran past the kitchens, they spotted the three kids sitting in the large window-alcove, all eating breakfast.

“Good morning, King Daniel!” Cody shouted, waving a hand frantically as they passed. Dan waved in return, and he and Phil continued on their way.

They finally skidded to a stop in front of a pair of large, double doors—one of the many rooms designed for meetings. Resigning himself to a new life full of dull conversations in these rooms, Dan pushed open the door, Phil right behind him.

—

"Are you sure you'd like to conduct this meeting... _with company_ , Your Highness?" an old, severely balding man with a thick mustache questioned. Dan recognized him as one of his father's previous advisers, possibly named Henry.

"Of course," Dan said. Entering the room with Phil at his heels had been the cause of several surprised looks, but Dan wasn't bothered. He knew he could trust Phil, and having him at his side reduced his nerves by tenfold.

“It’s only, some of this information is rather delicate.”

“I’m sure, Henry.”

“Harold,” Henry corrected.

“Yes, that,” Dan waved his hand at him. “Phil stays.”

With that, the meeting proceeded. It was exceedingly dull, and Dan dreaded all the seemingly useless tasks he was suddenly acquiring. It looked as though Cecily would be waking him up in the mornings much more often, which definitely wouldn’t be earning her his favor.

“And on the topic of a wife?” one of the other men surrounding the table chimed in. His nose was huge and looked as if it were about to fall off his face.

“Er—”

“We can continue to arrange for you to meet the finest young ladies, of course.”

“No thanks,” Dan said quickly.

“But Your Highness,” the big-nosed man interjected. “Having a wife is a matter of utmost importance! And an _heir_ —”

“No thanks,” Dan repeated. “I’m gay.”

“Even so,” the man pressed on. “You must—”

“There isn’t anything I _must_  do,” Dan interrupted. “I’m the king. I plan to marry a man.” His advisor looked troubled at this announcement, and seemed to have half a mind to speak, but Henry (or was it Harley?) elbowed him in the side.

“Is that all?” Dan finally asked.

“It is for now, Your Highness,” Henry responded, and Dan nodded gratefully. He and Phil left rapidly after that, both relieved to be free from the responsibility of boring meetings.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Phil said sometime later as they walked through the castle. They were meandering in the direction of Dan’s rooms, though neither of them had said anything to suggest doing so.

“But imagine what that’ll be like when it’s the hundredth one I’ve done,” Dan huffed.

“You’re the king,” Phil pointed out. “I’m sure you could reduce the number of your own meetings.”

Dan perked up considerably. “You’re right—I can do anything I want!”

“Well, not _anything_ …”

“I could take over Leona!”

Phil smacked him. “You can’t smack a _king_ ,” Dan informed him.

“But I can smack my boyfriend,” he pointed out. Dan, despite the fact that Phil was talking about smacking him, felt his cheeks bunch up as his lips pulled into an undeniable grin. He just liked hearing Phil call him his boyfriend.

Arriving at his room, they found Alfonzo leaning against the wall besides the door, quite alone.

“Alfonzo,” Dan greeted. “Where’s Bentley?”

“He’s helping to set up your new quarters. Most of your stuff has already been moved, they’re just arranging it all for you.”

Dan had completely forgotten that he’d be moving rooms now. The king’s quarters were in the strategically safest spot in the entire castle, and they were much bigger as well. Technically, they were designed for two people to share, though Dan hadn’t had a problem with sharing his own rooms with Phil recently.

“Okay,” Dan finally answered, nodding slowly. “But, um… can we still go in here?”

Alfonzo glanced behind himself at the door, surprised, before he shrugged. “I mean, I don’t see why not.” And so Dan stepped past him, Phil following quickly behind.

It was strange to see his room so barren—desks and tables and bookshelves missing. Upon walking into his bedroom, Dan realized that even his _bed_  was gone.

“Was there not already a bed in the king’s chambers?” Dan demanded incredulously, and Phil laughed.

“Maybe your bed was better.”

With a huff, Dan threw himself onto the ground, stretching out over the plush carpet and sighing. “Still, they shouldn’t have taken it,” he insisted.

“I wonder why you’re so obsessed with having a bed in here,” Phil teased, before lying on the floor beside Dan. He was propped up on one elbow, looking down at Dan, who closed his eyes.

“Hmm, no reason. Maybe I just wanted to take a nap on it,” he said innocently.

“That sounds completely believable,” Phil said. Dan giggled before peeking up at Phil. “You know,” Phil added suddenly, “this really _is_  a nice carpet.”

“So you’ve said,” Dan responded.

“I’m just saying,” Phil said nonchalantly.

“Subtle.”

“Like _you’re_  ever subtle!” Phil cried, and Dan stretched out over the floor, pinning his hands against the ground above his head suggestively.

“Are you going to keep insinuating that you’re going to fuck me on my carpet or actually do it?”

Phil, thankfully, took that for what it actually was (an invitation) and rolled on top of him, even reaching up to actually pin Dan’s wrists to the floor. “Remember when I told you your carpet would be good for having sex on?”

“I only remember it, oh, every time I’m barefoot and can feel my carpet under my feet,” Dan answered casually. It really _had_  crossed his mind quite a few times, especially since they’d started dating.

“You got _so red_  that night,” Phil laughed, and Dan glared at him. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

“I’m going to pinch you.”

“With your hands pinned up here?”

Dan tried to free them then, tugging at his wrists, but Phil kept them firmly trapped. Dan slumped. “Looks like pinching’s out of the question,” he said, resigned. “I guess you’ll just have to fuck me then.”

Phil laughed loudly, but he did grind down against him. Dan had been sporting the beginnings of a hard on since the very second sex had come up, which seemed to be happening a lot lately. He was entirely too receptive, though lately it’d been working in his favor.

Although grinding was nice, and Dan soon found himself red-faced and breathing shakily, it was undeniable that they were both wearing too many clothes. Dan was just about to relay this when Phil suddenly reached up and pinched his nipple, making him gasp.

“What’re you—doing?” Dan panted, wriggling under Phil. It was harder to grind up against him, especially with most of Phil’s weight on top of him, and Phil thankfully rewarded him by thrusting down against him again.

“Trying to make you moan,” Phil answered shamelessly, and Dan spluttered something incomprehensible in response. “What? It’s hot.”

“I don’t want to _moan_ ,” Dan said, and he bit down on his lip as Phil’s fingers started playing freely with his nipple, somehow still beyond sensitive.

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing,” Dan huffed, though he made a little sound like “ung” as Phil suddenly started kissing his neck, his tongue hot and wet against his throat.

“You’re ridiculous,” Phil said fondly, after procuring a hickey that was most definitely going to be noticeable. Dan would get revenge later—he was feeling a little too lightheaded to do so now. “And overdressed.”

With that, Phil was shoving his shirt up his chest while Dan hastily untied his cape (“Not only are they ridiculous—they’re _time consuming_ ,” Phil growled), and struggled the rest of the way out of it, waiting impatiently for Phil to do the same with his own shirt. They both kicked off the rest of their clothes then, wanting to be completely naked against each other already.

“You should turn over,” Phil suggested, and Dan raised an eyebrow at him.

“How come?”

“Best way to have carpet sex,” Phil joked, but Dan could already feel his face going red at the thought of the position they would be in. That would leave him completely vulnerable to Phil’s view, and he wouldn’t be able to see Phil at all.

“Er—shouldn’t we get the lube first?” Dan said, stalling, and Phil rolled his eyes.

“I’ll get it,” he offered before kissing Dan deeply (Dan started trying to grind against him again) and standing. Dan was left panting on the floor, naked and spread out, before Phil returned, tossing the container from hand to hand with his eyebrows raised. Dan decided that he liked watching Phil walk towards him when he was naked.

“So… turn around?” Dan asked tentatively, once Phil was kneeling on the carpet beside him again.

“Yeah, just like that,” Phil whispered, his hands running soft and hot over Dan’s body as he settled on his elbows and knees, feeling incredibly vulnerable. His face was flaming, he knew, but Phil just gently ran his hands over his back, and then over his arse. Dan clenched his eyes, thinking of how very visible an extremely private part of himself must be, before Phil’s hands grabbed the globes of his arse and pushed them apart, his thumbs near to his entrance.

“Phil!” Dan squeaked, embarrassed, and jerked forward slightly. He did _not_  want Phil examining him so closely… _there_.

“Hmm?”

“What’re you _doing_?” Dan demanded, and instead of answering, Dan felt hot breath against him. “No,” Dan moaned. Oh God, if Phil was about to do what Dan thought he was about to do… Dan would have to kill him. No man could put their mouth on his arsehole and live, Dan decided.

He jerked forward suddenly as something hot and wet ran over his entrance, leaving him tingling and shaking all over. Thinking of reprimanding Phil, of telling him to maybe _not_  do that, he opened his mouth. “ _Phil_ ,” he moaned, and then Phil licked him again, and again.

Dan couldn’t deny the fact that he was shaking, his entire body practically vibrating against the floor. Phil even _sucked_  on him for God’s sake, and Dan was letting out the most embarrassing noises known to man, all sorts or whimpers and squeaks and gasps and moans. And that was nothing compared to when Phil pressed his tongue _inside_  him.

Dan became very aware of the fact that he was dying. No man could have their arse eaten out and live, he decided. Phil was sucking his very soul out of his body and Dan was doing nothing to stop him.

He shivered and clenched around Phil’s tongue, which was soon accompanied by a finger, pressing into Dan as his tongue lathed him, making him hot and cold all over. Dan was clutching thick handfuls of the carpet as tightly as he could, and his toes were digging into it as well. Phil’s finger pressed against his prostate then, as he sucked on the skin of Dan’s entrance, and Dan cried out loudly.

All at once, Phil pulled away, and Dan was left cold and shivering and bare. “Ph-Phil?” he questioned, and then Phil’s hands were on him again, running over his sides and over his arse, but not going inside him.

“Don’t want you to come yet,” he admitted, and then he was pressing a kiss against Dan’s lower back. “Want us to come together.”

Dan thought they were going to have sex like that, with his ass in the air and his face in the ground, but Phil surprised him again. After fingering him with lube, to make sure he was really ready, Phil pressed him to the ground, so that Dan’s cock was trapped underneath him and his head was turned to the side in order to be able to breathe. His legs were spread out, and then Phil was laying down on top of him and easing slowly in, and Dan was moaning beneath him.

It felt absolutely incredible. There was something about having Phil’s weight on him, holding him down, that was driving Dan crazy. He couldn’t move at all, couldn’t jerk against Phil or reach down to stroke his cock. His pleasure was left entirely up to Phil’s ministrations, and he was moving slowly, oh so slowly.

“Phil,” Dan whined, squirming beneath him. Phil bit the back of his neck, and Dan huffed, his breath sounding like a wheeze. His fingers were wound into the carpet and he couldn’t help wondering if he was going to end up pulling chunks of it out.

“You feel good, Dan,” Phil slurred into his neck. Dan reached up with one hand and shoved his fingers into Phil’s hair before tugging on it, relishing in the gasp it caused Phil to make. He jerked forward inside Dan then, and they both groaned low in their throats.

“Fuck,” Dan choked, and he squeezed around Phil for good measure. “You’re—fuck.”

Phil started moving faster, then, thrusting into him harder and kissing Dan’s neck distractedly. Dan closed his eyes and let himself be absorbed in the pleasure, his body bouncing against the soft carpet, Phil’s hands fluttering around fervently, gripping his shoulder one second, his hair the next.

Dan was making the most ridiculous noises, but by this point he no longer cared, could barely even register himself making them. He could feel himself getting close and wondered if he would come untouched, Phil’s body pressing him heavily against the carpet.

“Close,” Dan whined, and Phil hummed in answer, nipping Dan’s ear. He moved even faster then, and Dan heaved underneath him, shaking all over, his skin hot. His cock was rubbing against the carpet, soft and smooth against his sensitive skin. He came with Phil’s name on his lips, pleasure shooting throughout his body, making his fingers dig so harshly into the carpet that they hurt and making him jerk underneath Phil desperately.

Phil wasn’t done yet, and he kept going, kept thrusting into Dan, now sensitive from his orgasm. He was whimpering underneath Phil when he finally came, moaning low in his throat, his face pressed into Dan’s neck, and finally stopped and collapsed on top of Dan, still inside him.

They laid like that for a moment, hot and sweaty and panting, before Phil started pressing kisses to his shoulders and slowly pulled out. Together they rolled over, away from the spot now ruined by Dan’s release.

Dan flopped onto of Phil, throwing his leg over his waist and pulling him close, using his chest as a pillow.

“That was good,” Phil said, moments later, and his fingers started playing with Dan’s hair, twisted the strands and scratching softly against his scalp. It felt wonderful.

“Mmm,” Dan readily agreed. “Think you’re a sex god,” he slurred. Phil laughed, and it made Dan’s whole body shake, thrown over Phil’s as it was.

“I love you,” Phil laughed, his hands gentle as they ran over Dan’s body. Dan kissed his chest.

“Love you too.”

—

Over the next few days, Dan realized that being king really wasn't so bad. He had more freedom than ever before—it was astonishing to him that he could create his own schedule. Cecily had to keep leaning over his shoulder, asking him to please, _please_  not schedule a meeting for nine o’clock at night what in the world was he _thinking_? But Dan liked the sound of not having to wake up any time early in the mornings.

He discovered the liberties of actually getting to fire people—and the even more satisfying feeling of _hiring_  someone. For example, he got rid of half his advisers, all practically ancient and definitely outdated. Plus, they hadn't done a very good job of advising his father to not kill his own son, so Dan wasn’t so sure he could trust them completely. He then hired Alfonzo and Bentley onto his board of advisors, which he definitely hadn't seen the drawbacks of before doing so.

They had somewhat of an inflated ego nowadays, and annoyingly insisted on calling him _Dan_. He'd tried to demand, on multiple occasions, that they at least call him _King_  Dan, but they didn't even pretend to humor him. They acted as if they were friends, which they most certainly were _not_!

Not to mention the fact that now, after hiring them as his advisors, they could no longer be his guards. They still lived in the castle and were technically always on call for if Dan needed advice of any sort, and so they couldn’t be occupied with standing in front of his rooms all day.

“Wait,” Dan had said, realizing with sudden clarity what exactly this meant. “I need to hire _new_  guards?”

This proved to be a terrifying and anxiety-ridden task, because Dan didn’t want _new people_. He already had an abundance of people, most of whom he’d only just begun to tolerate! The thought of having new people, constantly standing outside his room and greeting him every time he walked past them… Dan shivered in disgust.

Alfonzo and Bentley, however, advised him to allow the city’s people to apply, and that those who were actually capable could take some time to be trained up first. Taking this advice to heart, Dan did the same with many different positions around the castle, laying off people who didn’t seem to like the fact that he was now king. Anyone he… _overheard_ —by _coincidence_ —talking about how he shouldn’t be ruling so young, or about how he was gay, or about how any heir he might have wouldn’t _really_  be his, was sacked. And they were replaced with young, eager citizens of Hirona, all excited and willing to be working and living in his castle.

In the end, Dan’s new guards ended up being a short girl with a disproportionate amount of strength and a buzzcut—Dan had already forgotten her name twice, but with a reminder from Phil, he knew that it was Maya—and a vaguely familiar boy. After meeting him for the second time—the first being the initial interview, and the second being a meeting in which to inform the boy he was hired—he remembered. The boy had been at Phil’s trial, and he’d asked Dan if he would be courting men now that he’d come out. His name was Charles and he had a polite smile. Neither he nor Maya looked like the type to be guards, but Dan knew that the second someone tried to attack them they’d be missing limbs, so he didn’t mind.

“So you mainly just stand here and make sure I don’t get murdered,” Dan explained, gesturing to the stretch of wall on either side of his door. Just then, Phil poked his head out of Dan’s room, his hair wet from a recent bath.

“I’m in desperate need of cookies,” he informed. Charles was gaping at him.

“Are—are other people just allowed in your rooms?” he questioned. “When did he get in there?”

“Phil’s always in my rooms,” Dan said flippantly, and Maya immediately nodded, a knowing look in her eyes. Dammit! Dan didn’t know why, but the thought of people thinking of _him_  and being _with_  another person in the same sentence made him flustered. Granted, it didn’t take very long for most people in the castle to catch up on the nature of his and Phil’s relationship, but he was still finding it hard to get used to two sets of laundered clothes being delivered to his rooms or the cooks asking “and for the prince?” after he’d finished relaying what he wanted for dinner, without even being able to mention Phil.

“Do you think they’re dating?” Dan asked moments later, once he and Phil were back inside his room and Maya and Charles were starting their first day of guard duty. Before Phil even had a chance to respond, Dan put his finger over his lips and pressed his ear against the door. “They’re not saying anything!” he relayed furiously.

“They’re probably nervous,” Phil said easily. “They’ll loosen up. Also you have the _worst_  gaydar.”

“Gay-what?” Dan said, offended.

“You think _they’re_  dating?” Phil demanded. “ _Them_? And not Alfonzo and Bentley?”

“What about Alfonzo and Bentley?”

“They were _obviously_  dating!” Phil insisted, and Dan gaped at him.

“ _Our_  Alfonzo and Bentley? Since when?”

Phil was looking at him as if he didn’t have a head. “I don’t know, since always?”

Dan felt like his world was being flipped over. How had _Phil_  realized this and he hadn’t? Bewildered and insanely curious, Dan had half a mind to go and find his no-longer-guards and have them advise him on the nature of their relationship. Instead, he raised his eyebrows at Phil.

“You know,” he said, “Charles asked me if I was going to be courting boys after your trial.”

Phil gave him an amused look. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

Dan spluttered indignantly, before saying, “No!” rather loudly and informing Phil that he would have to be the one to get his own cookies as he was off to take a bath. He should’ve realized that Phil would insist on joining him despite having just gotten out of his own bath, being the bath-hog that he was. 

—

Dan should’ve known that like all good things in life, it couldn’t last. He’d been a fool for thinking it might, and when it finally did end, he was left shell-shocked and angry and upset.

“I have to go back to Leona,” Phil informed him, and Dan’s immediate reaction was to step backwards. He wanted to step closer, to tug Phil into him and squeeze him close, to ask _why_  and _for how long_  and _can’t you stay_? But he didn’t do that, he stumbled backwards and stared at Phil with wide eyes instead.

“It won’t be forever,” Phil promised. “I’ll be back. I love you.”

Dan nodded and said something similar in return, but really he could already feeling his insides crumbling apart. He could feel himself closing off, drawing inward, and when Phil finally left, after a night of passionate sex and equally passionate (and emotional) cuddling, the entire castle seemed to reflect Dan’s mood.

After watching Phil’s carriage disappear into the distance he did what Charlotte might’ve called sulking, stalking around the castle and sitting in forgotten corners to be angry and sad by himself. He found himself yelling at and insulting just about anyone who crossed his path, even days after Phil had gone. Phil had promised to write, but that wasn’t nearly enough to compensate for his actual presence, though Dan wrote anyway, having nothing better to do. Dan had already sent four different letters after just a week of Phil’s absence.

Dan could feel the castle’s staff coming to resent him again. They avoided him and he avoided them, instead holing himself in his quarters and pouring through books in what felt like an unhealthy amount. Charlotte was back to having to remind him to eat, and Cecily was waking him up on mornings when he didn’t even have anything planned, which angered him to no end, though she insisted it was important he didn’t allow himself to sleep the day away.

Alfonzo and Bentley, as his advisers, advised him to go ride Alamo, which was actually a great idea. For almost an entire hour he felt much better, his problems and worries seeming to have evaporated from his mind. They came back soon enough, but for the time being it was pleasant.

Still, Dan wasn’t finding it very easy to get over the loss of Phil returning to Leona, which he wasn’t going to admit to anybody for a second, thank you very much. Everyone was walking on eggshells around him, however, when they bothered to walk near them at all. The fact that they were acting so carefully to keep him calm made him angry—which was pretty contradictory on their part.

Angry and sad, Dan decided to simply wait for Phil’s next letter before taking on his kingly duties. He couldn’t do them when he was sad, anyway, and a letter from Phil would surely do the trick to cheer him up (at least partially). Until then, he resigned to do his best to not have to talk to absolutely anyone, even going so far as to duck into hidden doorways and alcoves to avoid servants who’d been sent to look for their absent king. And anyone who did find him found themselves threatened of being hanged, though Alfonzo and Bentley always advised him to reconsider.

Life just wasn’t the same without Phil around, and Dan wondered how he’d ever gotten by without him before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well guys things are wrapping up!! next chapters the epilogue so stay tuned!! also in case you haven’t heard, i’m starting another chaptered fic immediately after arp called Cat and Mouse, so stick around if you’re interested in seeing what that’s about too ;)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the (mini) chapter that focuses on bentley and alfonzo that everyone has been begging me for
> 
> [this chapter is skippable if you don’t care] [but dnp are in it too so you’ll miss out on some phan action]
> 
> [[also it takes place before the last chapter ended, so pre-phil leaving]]

“Bad news,” Alfonzo informed, stepping swiftly through the front door of their quarters. It wasn’t too big, and housed only a bedroom, bathroom, and living room, but it was good enough for the both of them.

“What’s up?” Bentley asked. He’d already changed into pajamas and climbed into their bed, but from the look on Alfonzo’s face he wouldn’t be able to stay there for very long.

“Dan summoned us,” Alfonzo said slowly. “Said he wants to… talk.”

Bentley felt the blood drain from his face. He knew he’d been taking it too far. He made inappropriate jokes about his king and the prince, and he’d cussed at them to top it all off. He was going to be kicked out of the castle, or exiled from Hirona. Of course, he could always be hanged, though Bentley didn’t know if Dan had ever actually gone through with that before.

“Oh God,” he whispered, and sharing a mournful look with Alfonzo, he scrambled out of bed and grabbed his clothes as fast as he could, figuring that he could make up for his dumb, rash actions by not being tardy.

Once they left their quarters, Bentley reached out for Alfonzo’s hand. He couldn’t help feeling like it would be his last chance to do so—he was starting to get a strong suspicion that he’d be dead after all this.

“Maybe we should just run away,” he suggested, once they’d almost finished navigating the path of twists and turns that lead to the king’s quarters. “I hear Kaleon is very nice this time of year.”

“The king is the best rider on the continent,” Alfonzo said confidently. “He’d catch you before you even left the property.”

Bentley was nervous sweating—there was no denying this fact. They stopped for a moment before turning the last corner, sharing a nervous look. Alfonzo kissed him, quickly, and then they were striding down the final stretch of hall. They nodded nervously to the night guards, Lin and Elaine, before making their way slowly into the room.

Phil was standing in the entrance, wearing nothing but a long shirt and a pair of high socks. He had a book open in one hand and appeared to be flicking through it.

“Prince!” Bentley said in surprise, and Phil blinked up at him, appearing just as un-advised about this meeting.

“Bentley, Alfonzo,” he greeted, seeming completely unabashed by his appearance. Bentley guessed it made sense—he hadn’t been the one red-faced when found naked in bed that morning. “What are you doing here?”

“You don’t know?” Alfonzo asked incredulously. Phil frowned.

“No?”

“The king summoned us,” Bentley informed, and Phil rolled his eyes.

“You two can stop looking so terrified. I won’t let him do anything he’d regret.”

“I don’t think he’d regret murdering us,” Bentley muttered, and Phil shook his head, though he was grinning.

“Dan?” he called to the next room.

“I said _no_!” Dan answered back. “Two rounds is enough—if you touch me anymore I think my dick will fall off.”

“No it’s not that, we have company,” Phil answered. There was a long moment of silence, and then Dan cleared his throat.

“Well now that they’ve heard that they’ll have to be hanged,” he answered. Bentley spun around and darted towards the door, only stopping when Alfonzo grabbed his collar and yanked him backwards.

“No need, Your Highness!” Alfonzo called pleasantly. “It’s nothing we haven’t heard before!” Dan groaned. “You do know your door isn’t that thick?” Alfonzo then added.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Dan said.

“You’re embarrassing him,” Phil pointed out. Dan stomped into the room, in a similar state of undress, though he looked much more embarrassed about it.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Dan spat, and then he glared at Bentley and Alfonzo. “You two!” he snapped.

“Sir, yes sir!” Bentley cried, which seemed appropriate when Dan was looking at him like that. Dan just shook his head.

“I don’t want you to be my guards anymore.”

“I knew it!” Bentley despaired. “Move to Kaleon with me?” he said suddenly, turning to Alfonzo and looking at him desperately. Alfonzo’s eyes were wide with surprise, obviously not having actually expected to be fired.

“I—”

“Wait!” Dan quickly interrupted. “I don’t want you to be my guards because I want you to be my advisors. I’ve already fired like, seven people,” he admitted, chagrined.

Bentley gaped at him.

“We accept!” Alfonzo said quickly, and Bentley got his bearings back enough to nod in agreement.

“Any ideas who’ll replace them as guards?” Phil suddenly piped up, and Dan looked at him, his mouth slightly open.

“Aw, God dammit!” he whined.

“Thanks for the promotion, Dan!” Bentley said suddenly. “Goodbye!”

“I—wha—hey!” Dan yelled after them. “It’s _King Daniel_  to you!”

Alfonzo was laughing giddily, and Bentley was jumping up and down as they fast-walked down the corridor. Suddenly, overcome with emotion, Alfonzo swept Bentley into his arms and spun him in a circle, laughing into his neck.

“Promoted!” Alfonzo cried, and then they were both standing on their own two feet again, grinning excitedly and clutching each other’s hands. “Can you believe it, Bentley? And all you had to do was embarrass the king!”

“I’m a new man, Al,” Bentley relayed. “Call me Sir Bentley.” At Alfonzo’s incredulous look, he added: “Short for Advi- _sir_ Bentley.”

Alfonzo laughed and shoved him away, although he just as quickly pulled him back and into a kiss, the two of them unable to stop smiling even then.


	19. Chapter 19

_Dear Dan,_

_I shudder to think of how many times you're going to read these words—whenever you're anxious or angry or sad. It makes me want to think very hard about every word I write, but then this letter would take a thousand years and we don't really have that kind of time. Instead I'll just write as I normally do, but if you're reading this right now, having just had a good cry or possibly thrown a torch at Charlotte's head, know that I love you and hope you find comfort reading this letter. The next time I see you I'm definitely going to scour your rooms to find all my letters and see how tarnished they are—evidence of how many times you've read them._

_I hope you're not sulking around the castle currently, ignoring everyone and glaring daggers at anyone who happens to come across you. It wouldn't be so conducive to your professional image as a king, now would it? Of course, you’ve never been overly concerned with your image around the castle, so I can’t necessarily say I’d be surprised._

_I told my family about us! Everyone was completely supportive. Dad had about a thousand questions and Mum (very subtly) started asking about what you thought about having kids. Martyn apparently thought we’d been dating this entire time in secret anyway. I’m glad it all turned out so well, I’d barely even given myself a chance to think about what would happen if it didn’t._

_I don’t really have much time to write—I’m unfortunately very busy—but I wanted to tell you as soon as possible. By the time you get this you can probably expect to have another letter in the next few days._

_I love you,_

_Phil_

—

Dan very carefully refolded the letter once he was done reading it, tucking it back into the envelope it'd been delivered in. Phil was wrong. Or he was about one thing, anyway. Phil would never know how often Dan was reading his letters when he took such careful care of them like this.

He was right about everything else.

Dan huffed in annoyance, shifting uncomfortably and trying to stretch out his legs in the small alcove he was stuffed in. It was a new hiding spot he'd found, one where he’d yet to be discovered. In the past month and a half he'd managed to accomplish several of his king's duties, including yelling at his advisors (Alfonzo and Bentley yelled back), rescheduling his meetings as often as he scheduled them (to avoid actually going to them), and several other menial tasks that weren't worth the effort to actually think about.

When he wasn't doing or avoiding doing the things he was supposed to be doing, he was hiding. He found places where he couldn't possibly be bothered and busied himself with writing letters to Phil or rereading Phil’s old letters. Once through with that, he usually managed to struggle through a few chapters of a novel, barely able to concentrate on the actual characters and storyline. Even riding Alamo wasn’t quite like it used to be. While it was true that riding him was as exciting and joyous as ever, he was unable to shake the unease and sadness that seemed to tug at him no matter where he went.

Holding in a sigh, Dan looked out the window, letting his eyes groom over the land he owned. It still didn’t feel as if he was the king. He knew it to be true, and was aware of the fact that he’d been dealing out laws and punishments, arranging trials and satisfying citizens, but he still didn’t _feel_  like a king. He felt like a child in big-kid clothing, simply pretending to be something he wasn’t—his pants dragging on the floor behind him and his sleeves falling miles past his hands.

He figured that, with time, being king would start to feel natural. That he’d stop thinking of himself as a prince and stop thinking that he wouldn’t possibly be able to do something, that his father would never allow it. Then, of course, he’d remember that he could do whatever the hell he wanted, which for some reason always seemed to result in him eating far too much cake and becoming horribly ill, which only ended in him clinging uselessly to the toilet with Cecily rubbing circles on his back despite his demanding her to leave. Rather than that whole fiasco, Dan would very gladly settle for living happily with Phil. He didn’t have to court women anymore, and he definitely didn’t have to marry one, which meant… Well, it meant that one day, if Phil even wanted to, of course… that they could get married. And then they could rule over Hirona together, the king’s duties shared between them. Their entire _lives_  shared between them.

Dan swallowed thickly. Thinking all of this was ridiculous, of course, not to mention childish. It was far too embarrassing as well. He could never let anyone know that in his alone time he fantasized about being old and married with his boyfriend, lest he risk eternal mortification.

On the grounds below there appeared to be some small commotion with an arriving carriage, and Dan groaned, realizing he’d forgotten about yet another meeting. It was impossible to ignore and postpone all of the duties he had to attend to, which resulted in a few of them slipping by every now and then. Still, he wasn’t going to care about that just now. If it was really so important, someone could try a little harder to find him.

And so Dan closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the stone wall behind him. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, the sun lulling him into an almost-sleep where it seeped through the window, his chin on his chest, when Alfonzo was rousing him.

“Dan,” he said, shaking his shoulder, and Dan blinked sleepily up at him.

“God dammit,” he muttered, yawning loudly. He hadn’t expected anyone to know where he was hiding. He was beginning to wonder how they did such a good job of finding him when they actually needed him anyway. “What is it?”

“It’s—well, I think you should really just come and see.”

Dan scoffed. “I’m the _king_  Alfonzo. I can’t just walk into a surprise.”

“Even for your birthday?”

Dan scowled. He thought that the date had managed to slip by without anyone noticing, but apparently he’d been wrong.

“Especially not my birthday.”

“Too bad.”

With that, Dan was being tugged out of the alcove, his cramped muscles aching in relief, and led through the corridors. He was in a sour mood, his scowl etched permanently on his face. Their journey was filled with a surplus of annoyed huffs and sighs on Dan’s part, and exasperated eye rolls on Alfonzo’s.

“The entrance hall?” Dan questioned. “What meeting am I forgetting about? Who am I meant to be greeting?”

Alfonzo, annoyingly, ignored him, and Dan’s nails pressed into the balls of his palms angrily, surely leaving dents.

“I don’t have time for this!” he erupted furiously. “If you don’t tell me—”

“Dan.”

Dan paused, feeling light-headed, and turned.

“Oh, fuck you!” Dan cried, and with that he was sprinting forward (cape billowing behind him) and flinging himself roughly into Phil’s arms, not finding a single shred in him that cared when Phil let out a pained “oof!”. He clung to Phil desperately, squeezing him as tightly as he could and gasping back tears as he pressed his face into his shoulder. “You’re the worst,” he whispered. “God, are you going to make a habit out of not warning me before you visit?”

“No,” Phil laughed, and his hands stroked leisurely over Dan’s back. “Well—because, I’m not entirely sure I’ll be visiting again.”

Dan felt his stomach plummet all the way to the floor, and he stumbled out of Phil’s arms, staring at him wide-eyed and scared out of his mind.

“I—what? What do you mean?”

It was terrible to break up with someone over letter, so was that why Phil was here? He felt too noble to do so in words, hundreds of miles away, and decided to come do in in person? Had he met someone else back in Leona, now that he was assured in his sexuality? Perhaps Dan had just been experimentation for him, and his supposed love had never been half as strong as Dan’s, or even love at all—just infatuation.

Dan could already feel the tears building up in his eyes, but he held them back, trying to save face. If Phil broke up with him he wasn’t going to blubber right there in the entrance hall. He was going to walk, standing tall and straight backed, until he was most definitely out of hearing range before he started sobbing.

Phil smiled softly. _This is it,_  Dan thought desperately. _It’s over. Oh fuck, it’s over._

“I don’t want to visit again because I want to live here, Dan,” he said seriously. Dan’s heart gave a decisive thump. “And I’d like to do it as—well, as your husband.” With that, Phil dropped to the ground, on one knee, and pulled a black box from his pocket.

Now, Dan couldn’t help holding back his tears, and he held his hand in front of his mouth in an attempt to stop himself from crying out.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Dan said, wiping his face with the back of his hand and stumbling in Phil’s direction, half blind. “God, yes! A hundred, million times yes!” He was laughing now, and Phil was too. He caught Dan up in his arms, hugging him close, and spun him around cheesily. Dan didn’t care, he was giggling and crying and kissing Phil all over the face. Phil kept trying to catch his lips, to kiss him back, but Dan couldn’t manage to stay still, instead pecking Phil on the eyebrow and chin and corner of his eye.

“I love you,” Dan whispered, and Phil finally managed to kiss him, murmuring that he loved Dan too onto his lips.

Dan hadn’t even noticed that they weren’t alone. Bentley and Alfonzo were standing off to the side, both looking entirely too pleased as they watched the scene before them. Cecily and Charlotte were clinging to each other excitedly, as were Cody and his friends, though they stood further back, watching reverently and quietly.

Suddenly, the door of the carriage from which Phil had arrived flung open, and out stepped his mother. Behind her was Phil’s brother, Martyn, and his betrothed, Cornelia.

“It’s ever so good that you said yes,” Mrs. Lester said, her clothes crisp and neat despite being in the carriage for God knew how long. Despite her professional appearance, her smile was genuine. “Otherwise we’d have to turn right back around and return to Leona.”

“Good for you, Phil!” Martyn said excitedly, charging forward and wrapping his arm around Phil, forcing him to bend down before rubbing his hair roughly. Phil protested, but Dan was distracted because Cornelia was approaching him and pulling him into a hug.

“It’s so great to finally meet you,” she said sincerely. Dan had met all the Lesters before, but Cornelia was an (almost) new edition. “We’re going to have so much fun together!”

“I was thinking an outdoor wedding,” Mrs. Lester was saying, standing somewhere in between Dan and Phil and looking back and forth at them eagerly. “Oh! And I know just the kind of _flowers_ …”

“Dad couldn’t come yet,” Martyn was telling Phil, speaking over his mother. “But he said he’d nip down for the wedding!”

Dan was overwhelmed, though in a good way, and he met Phil’s eyes over the head of all of his soon-to-be extended family. They grinned at each other, and as everyone in the hall talked excitedly, Dan’s staff soon eased forward and mixed with the Lesters (Charlotte was already mid-conversation with Mrs. Lester about floral arrangements or cakes or something, while Alfonzo and Bentley were listening with rapt attention as Martyn told some embarrassing story about Phil, and Cecily was nodding eagerly to something Cornelia was saying). Dan sidled over in Phil’s direction. He was excited—beyond excited—but right now he was mostly just thankful that Phil was back. They were quick to wrap their arms around each other, tugging one another close and sneaking elated grins towards one another as people drifted over to them to talk, all wedding plans and guest invites.

“Oh!” Phil said suddenly, and he held out the box in his hand. In the commotion of it all it’d been forgotten, still closed and clutched tightly in his fist. He flicked it open, revealing a simple but elegant silver band fit for Dan’s finger. “I measured your ring finger while you slept, you know,” Phil informed.

“You freak!”

Though Dan acted annoyed and amused, he was actually overflowing with happiness as Phil slid the ring onto his finger, giving his hand a quick squeeze immediately after.

Phil pressed his face against Dan’s cheek, placing a kiss there before nuzzling towards his ear. “Ready for the rest of our lives together?”

“With you by my side?” Dan laughed. “I think I’ll be ready for anything.”

And like most fairy tales, ones with princes and kings and servants, dances and sword fights and weddings, they lived happily ever after.

**~The End~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! how was that everybody? did you enjoy it? was it the cheese factory of cheesy? doesn’t matter! epilogues gotta be happy and cheesy, american, swiss, provolone.
> 
> idk what im saying
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed the story!! it was so so so much fun to write and i’m glad i finally got this idea out of my head and into yours! i’m going to miss this universe but i’m very excited for the next one as well!! next saturday i’ll be posting the first chapter to my next fic, Cat and Mouse! i hope you’ll stayed tuned for that surprise - and since we’re so close, i’ll now tell you that this story has to do with superheroes and supervillains.
> 
> finally, i want to thank you all for reading and sending me messages about A Royal Pain and supporting me while i wrote it. i hope it stays with you for a while!!
> 
> that’s all folks!


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